


The Hunting Party

by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)



Series: A/B/O bodice rippers [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A horse called Bastard, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, M/M, Matchmaking, Mistaken Identity, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Mystery, Scott's a bit of a creeper in this one, fandomcares, george the moustache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-07-01 17:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 49,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphim_grace/pseuds/DarkAthena
Summary: After summering with the McCalls in their country estate Stiles is ready to go back to London, even if it means giving his father a decision on whether or not to marry Colonel Camden Lahey, but before they leave there is to be a hunting party, arranged by the young Mr McCall to woo an unwilling Miss Argent, but as a storm rages outside the hall a precious item is stolen and Stiles decides to find it and prove himself more than just an omega before he chooses marriage. At the same time Derek Hale, who has been the victim of a terrible set of consequences, is asked by his uncle to retrieve the watch stolen from him to protect England, and worse yet the local doctor is convinced he's betrothed to the interfering omega and keeps trying to find excuses for them to be alone together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightshadengale](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nightshadengale), [Ammeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ammeh/gifts).



> As Derek is Viscount Silverdale he will be addressed as Silverdale which so Stiles doesn't know he's a Hale, he thinks his surname is Silverdale.
> 
> This is the auction prize for Nightshadengale for the FandomCares Auction
> 
> Captain Lahey got a promotion as I realised that a captain might not be encouraged in the marriage of an omega - so he's a Colonel now, most of you won't notice but for those who did = I deliberately changed it

Stiles walked along through the verdant McCall lands with his sister, because although both had left the house looking for blackberries and elderflowers for the kitchen Stiles had a basket in either hand and an ugly straw hat on his head to protect him from the early September weather. Lydia trailed behind, with a parasol in one hand, despite her bonnet, and a book in the other. Although she had volunteered them both for the task she had immediately handed the extra basket to Stiles and told him to get on with it. Stiles complaints about how she had read the book three times already fell on willfully deaf ears. 

Stiles had been invited to summer at the McCall estate in Derbyshire by the young alpha, Auguste Scott McCall - most commonly called Scott - after their long friendship. If either set of parent had hoped for a match it was quickly put out of mind by the alpha's insistence that he would marry Allison Argent and no other, and that the entire invite had been made knowing that Stiles would need to be accompanied by his sister by marriage, Lydia, who was the dearest friend of Vidama Argent. 

Stiles had accepted the invitation because Eyam Hall was pleasant, set in expansive lands with a cultivated garden and wilderness and excellent riding and swimming, and spending the summer away from London was always a pleasure. The summer had not been a clement one, given to heavy storms and rain, which saw the two omegas stuck in the house with Lady McCall, a library that lacked in comparison to the one they shared in London, for both were voracious readers, a village with no bookshop and although the walks were pleasant, and the riding bracing the two were bored.

They had been in Derbyshire nearly three months, they had been on calls with Mrs. McCall to some of the local estates, even an overnight trip to Chatsworth where the Duke and Duchess of Cavendish were hosting a royal tennis party but being unmarried they were not allowed to watch and instead were relegated to wandering the gardens, although both Lord and Mr. McCall competed.

Three months had seen them almost bereft of company and gossip and they had long since run out of conversation, and they were eager to see the mail given out at breakfast.

They had even started to play battledore and shuttlecock because a net had been strung up in the old billiard room which Mrs. McCall had had it changed from its purpose as her husband did not care for the game. Caught within the hall by inclement weather and with little in the library to amuse them the game had come as a last straw, and most worryingly there were even times that they enjoyed it.

Their return to London could not come soon enough, and they would return at the end of the week after the hunting party that Lord McCall held every year for select friends before people returned to London for the demi-season, or to their own homes.

As such the house was being prepared and the bustle of servants running about preparing rooms was not as unobtrusive as it would normally be, there were feet running up and down the stairs, and even hollering, so when Lady McCall suggested that they might take advantage of one of the few fine days this September to collect some bramble fruit and elderflowers to make puddings and cordials, Lydia had leapt at the offer and now her brother was wearing a borrowed straw hat, for it had not occurred to him to take one of his own, and carrying a pair of wicker baskets heaped high with blackberries, his fingertips and lips stained by the fruit, and elderflowers, a crown of which Lydia had placed on her bonnet, as she read her book and he groused because as much as he wanted to return to London he knew that his father would press him for a commitment regarding the young gentleman courting him, Colonel Camden Lahey, the heir of Sir Henry Lahey and who had only recently retired his colors, and returned to England where Stiles had, somehow, caught his eye. 

It baffled Stiles as much as anyone else, for Colonel Lahey spent most of his time in Bath, where most of the military gathered, and yet was determined to court Stiles, who had a comfortable dowry, certainly nothing eye-catching, and sent him a letter at least once a week.

Noah Stilinski, Stiles' father, who was also Lydia's step-father, was eager for news of how their courtship was progressing- for Colonel Lahey was handsome, rich and set to inherit a fine living with nearly eight thousand pounds a year.

Stiles was, to quote Lydia, squirrelly on the topic.

He was not opposed to marriage, he was not even sure that he was opposed to the idea of being married to Colonel Lahey but he was not swept away in a grand passion. He was not even sure that he wanted a grand passion but Colonel Lahey was perfunctory. It was a terrible thing to happen to a man, he ran his life like a military campaign and so his interest in Stiles was most peculiar because he was the utter opposite of perfunctory. 

Stiles was slapdash and wild, he would forget simple tasks like brushing his hair and if not for Lydia then his vests would be buttoned wrong. He had lost a button at the knee of his breeches and not noticed that his garters were flapping about for all to see. He had books stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, pockets he had added specifically for that purpose, and often his fingers were black with ink, ink he sometimes managed to get smeared across his face.

In contrast, Lydia was every inch the society omega, perfectly turned out with hair shaped with curling papers and a little Mouche stuck to her face just beside her mouth, her gowns were always perfectly settled and her fichu brilliant white. She had managed to not be marked by the few blackberries that she had eaten, and not even marred her white gloves. Had Colonel Lahey been smitten by Lydia it would have been much less gossip-worthy for she was everything that an alpha of fine prospects might want.

But Colonel Lahey wanted Stiles.

And Stiles' father wanted Stiles happy and married and settled, and Colonel Lahey had asked permission to call him by name.

So Stiles wandered through the estate towards the rear of the house, where he could deposit the fruit of his labors, kicking at stones and grousing to a sister that had no intention of listening when the wagon bearing two very ragged men approached the main entrance of Eyam Hall.

\---

At the same time that Stiles was procrastinating on deciding a future Derek Hale, Viscount Silverdale, was having what might have been the worst day of his life.

On his way to the hunting party held by Lord McCall at his uncle's insistence he had intended to continue through the night when his horse threw a shoe and if they were changing horses at the next inn he might as well take a room and rest his own. Admitting that this seemed a solid course of action Hale had agreed to it and should have immediately seen the error of his ways. The inn was not large and although it had not been a stop on the route of most of the guests of Lord McCall it was on the route of the London post and it had arrived before he had which had left him with a chair in front of the fire and a blanket.

The same post had managed to collide with his carriage on departure, and left him with a cracked axel that meant he could no longer take his carriage. The inn's owner was effusive in his apologies but that left him with no choice but to walk to the livery next door and hire the best horse that they had to offer, which the owner had wanted to short him on, so he had had to argue with him to get a horse that would bear his weight never mind one that would make the ride to Eyam.

The horse had a name that suited such a steed but Derek immediately called him Bastard because the livery owner had had the last laugh in giving him a horse that was at most half broken, and bit him at every opportunity. 

Although he could not hold Bastard accountable for throwing him when what looked to be a badger jumped out of the hedgerow in front of him hissing and spitting and Derek found it hard to be specific what had spooked the horse when he went from sat on his saddle to landing in a ditch.

That was his one piece of luck for he landed in a soft patch of mud and not on hard rock that might have done him serious injury instead of bruising his entire body and knocking the wind so far out of him it was kind of hard to breathe. He got to his feet, slowly, cursing every deity his classical education had provided him the name of, and went loping down the road after his horse. 

Bastard was no more than half a mile, but there was no way Derek was going to be able to climb on his back sore as he was, and it was possible he had cracked or broken a rib and considered himself lucky it had been so little, even if his ears were still ringing. So he took the horse by the reins and tried to coax him into a walk. Bastard replied by biting him on the arm.

Outside the village of Eyam, a passing farmer took pity on the mud-covered creature that was leading a bad-tempered hell beast, that was how the farmer described him, and offered him dry clothes and a ride to Eyam Hall where he was expected.

It was on the back of the wagon, wearing a farmer's spare clothes, that he had purchased with three guineas he had put in his waistband in case of emergencies and the ruined clothes that he was wearing, including a pair of white pants which had been stained black by the ditch mud, that he first encountered Stiles, who was to him one of two omega carrying baskets of blackberries in the early afternoon light wearing the ugliest straw hat Derek had ever seen, and one which Bastard, tied to the farmer's wagon, immediately plucked off his head and started to chew.

The resulting tirade from the lovely young man was the crowning glory of a truly bad day, and the admonition that they should bring deliveries around to the courtyard at the rear, and that they would lead them if they didn't know the way was just perfect. Derek didn't have enough strength left in his body to argue, climbed down from the wagon and just followed them around to the kitchens.

\---

Once Lady McCall had learned of his misfortune he was told he was among the first guests to arrive and his room would be prepared as soon as he could and clothes found for him until his own arrived, and a valet and it was most unfortunate that he had such luck, and on the week of the hunting party as well. She would have a bath prepared for him, with Epsom salts and did he need a physick for one could be sent for him from the village, she did not like to hear that his ears had rung so loudly for at least ten minutes and yes, she would send for the physick, but he would be down for dinner, more of the guests would have arrived by then, food would be sent up to his rooms and he would have a hot Epsom bath and fresh clothes, although considering his size they might lack the finery he was used to as a Hale but she would do her best.

Derek was just happy to hear there was a bath, even if, covered in black tarry mud as he was under the rags he was wearing, he was going to have to take it in the wash-house, because he didn't begrudge Lady McCall's reticence to have him tracking mud throughout her house when they were preparing for a hunting party and the arrival of many peers of the ton, even if he was, himself, among them.

When the physick, Finstock, arrived, already invited to the hunting party as a guest, he declared that Derek would be bruised from collar to stern and although his ribs were not broken it was a close thing, covered Derek in a remarkably sweet-smelling ointment  - in Derek's experience most such poultices smelled like mouldy socks and mustard - bound his chest tight whilst declaring that nothing was better for a broken rib than a corset, although corsets bound too tightly could break ribs, and making sure Derek was completely covered in ointment, before checking his eyes, ears, and, most curiously, teeth. Derek did not understand why he had done that at all and when questioned the physick gave an answer but it was not necessarily in response to the question that Derek asked blathering on as he did about the battle of Troy, a dissertation he had written on omega health and the restorative powers of rose hips.

Finstock also made it clear that Derek was not to ride, nor hunt, for at least a fortnight and should consider himself lucky that he had done nothing but give himself the sort of beating that a navy press gang would be proud of. He gave Derek a small bottle of laudanum but made it clear that he would be better served with rose hip tea and powdered willow bark which he would supply the household with from his personal stash, and that although he would not specifically forbid spirits he personally believed it injurious to the health of alphas, and this launched him on another tirade. All Derek knew was that after he day he had he was rather looking forward to a cognac. Instead, Finstock handed him a tea so tart it made his teeth itch and told him to drink it down whilst Finstock himself sat on a wash-barrel like a goblin with wild hair and strangely bulging eyes.

\---

When Derek left the wash-house, wearing a banyan, and sneaking up the back stairs groaning like an old man at the motion, for his muscles had, exactly as Finstock foretold, tightened and now ached, and by tomorrow his back and thighs would be the colour of an imperial cloak, he went to the rooms the footmen had put aside for his use. It was a fine pair of rooms with a small office in which a cot could be put for his valet, if the man ever arrived with his luggage, a desk and a wooden couch swarmed in hand embroidered pillows, leading into a bedroom with a wide inviting bed that Derek fell face first in.

He would be roused for dinner, he was sure, with clothes that whilst they might not fit correctly would certainly be more suited to his station than the itchy homespun he had had to purchase from the farmer. 

And to think, he thought to himself sinking into the down mattress, he hadn't even wanted to come.


	2. Chapter 2

When Derek woke it was the noise and scuffle of people arriving and to the terrible knowledge that every muscle that had ached before he had gone to sleep had now tightened and hurt in an exquisitely different way.

As awful as it was for a man who prided himself on his self-sufficiency he had to have the rather stoic and exhausted looking housekeeper find someone who was willing to help him slather on more of the arnica and comfrey peppermint balm that Dr. Finstock had given him because he wasn't very capable of movement at the moment.

 Still it took that very capable beta woman to get him dressed in his borrowed clothes, and she had to fetch a cane from the umbrella stand by the main double doors, she actually fetched all of them and made him try them until she was happy with the length, before she let him go downstairs, on her arm, and in a pair of carpet slippers for there was no chance of him pulling on his boots, even with help. She fussed that he should just stay in bed, properly supported, for he was going to be as purple as a elderberry, and that he should be grateful that it had only knocked the strength from him and not the life from him when the horse threw him. She was still fussing when he reached the main floor when he was to ask for her specifically and she would have a hot bath waiting for him before bed, and a good rub down to try and ease some more of the strength back into him. As she settled him next to the footmen she sent one of them to fetch him a good rosehip tea with honey, for it was as tart as a fishwife's tongue, and to add powdered willow bark for he was clearly in pain.

Then with a pat to his hand, like he was one of her mistress's spaniels, she handed him over to society. Derek was sad to see her go. For in her place, Lady McCall, having seen him enter, came over and sat on the chair beside the couch, straightening out her skirts by running her hands over him, "you are looking much improved," she said. Derek felt that was the sort of polite thing people said when they saw people who were in fact, not improved, and were more likely to look much worse. Lady McCall was wearing a fine sacque of peach-tan colored silk. It had five bows covering the stomacher, and a pressed gathered zigzag trim on the mantua with a faint design on the skirt in gold thread with fake pearls inlaid to form almost halos. She wore it with a lace collar that matched the cuffs on her gown. With her dark complexion the color might not have been such a good idea for it was only the heavy construction of the gown that meant people did not do a double take to see if she was naked.

Derek wondered if he wore dark purple the same problem might not apply to him. Nevertheless he tried his best to be polite when he ached miserably and wanted nothing more than to be back in the Epsom bath that had helped him, and then, when he was recovered, helping Lord McCall to hunt down the terrible beast that had seen him thrown- figuring that there were many uses for badger fur. If it had been a badger and not just a particularly bizarre looking stray dog. He hurt enough to admit that he had a grudge.

"I am most grateful, my lady, for the care that you have shown me," he said, "you have done far more than simple Christian courtesy."

She laughed and it was an utterly fake sound, "nonsense, dear," she patted his hand, and again he felt like a spaniel, "you were invited and it was no effort, you make me sound almost saintly instead of a good host." 

"Nevertheless, my lady, there are many who would not have come down to the kitchens to see a mud-spattered ruffian who claimed to a title, but you chose to verify my identity and not have me thrown on my ear. Especially with omega visiting, I could have been anyone." Derek didn't believe that had he been a ruffian intent on hurting the omega that he would have approached the door, even the tradesmen's entrance as he was forced to take by the omega, he would have snatched the pair of them in the woods.

"Yes," she said and there a moue of discontent on her face, "my omega houseguests," there was a pause, "a word of advice, Silverdale," she leaned forward as if they were co-conspirators, "if you are blessed with an alpha son be wary of listening to his plans for he will mislead you, I invited the vesdames believing that it was Vidama Lydia that my son wished to court, but I was misled, and although the two are darlings," that word was strained, "and it is no effort to have them stay, the Vidame, in particular, has a fine voice for reading, it has meant my son has spent the summer in machinations to have another vidama stay and he has been insufferable, this whole summer has been one tantrum after another as he does not get his own will." From her pocket she pulled a fan and snapped it open, beating it in front of her face a few times, "I suppose that the fault is mine, he is my only child and I have always assured him that he may have anything with a little effort, and now he is met with something that as a will of its own and it does not want him, but still he plots and schemes to catch her attention and the poor vesdames are part of that."

Derek's expression must have made it clear that he had no idea what she was talking about for she continued to explain. "My son fancies himself in love with Vidama Allison Argent, she has shown no interest in him but by happy," that  word was strained, "coincidence our close family friends the Stilinskis, contain Vidama Argents' dearest friend, Lydia," Derek stowed that name away for it was the name of the pretty girl that had been out picking elderflowers and blackberries with the other omega, "so my son came up with the rather harebrained scheme to invite Lydia's stepbrother, Stiles," that must have been the name of the omega laden with the baskets whose ugly hat that Bastard had eaten, "knowing that Lydia would have to accompany him. It is unfair, after all, to allow one sibling to summer in the country and not the other." Derek nodded to suggest that of course, it was unfair, but he had no interest in the gossip she was sharing, and he got the impression she was telling him simply because she needed to tell someone, and he was unable to easily lever himself from the couch. 

"It is made worse that Lydia has no interest in promoting Scott to Vidama Argent, and I was misled that Vidama Argent showed some interest in my son, but it turns out now that she has only been kind to him, and it is all tantrums and to make matters worse I, unknowingly, invited the Argents to the hunting party and the man whom the vidama has aimed her cap at, for Stiles is to be engaged to Colonel Lahey so I invited him and his brother not knowing that Vidama Argent and young Mister Lahey were seen to be courting, so I have managed to both promote my son and stymy him without intent. I am quite beside myself with what to do, it is enough to drive a woman to drink."

"And spoil that fine complexion?" Derek said, using the old pattern of flattery and flirting to hide the fact he had no interest in what Lady McCall considered a catastrophe, "you shall be surrounded by fine company, and what will happen will happen," he was trying to placate her. "If Vidama Argent does not see your son's worth after long acquaintance then she likely never will, but that does not mean that there are not others who will, and I am sure that one of the new  _blanc_ in the London season will turn his head."

She waved her fan again, "I am sure that you are correct, but it is a long time until January and as his mother, I shall have to live with him until then." She looked around, "I shall send for tea, I am sure that those other of our guests that have arrived shall be glad of it."

\---

Stiles had washed up and changed before going down to tea, which of all the meals of the day was the one that he found most tedious and was the one at which Lydia excelled, which made his own deficiencies all the more obvious. Lydia had had him help her into a  _robe a la Polonaise_ , for the abigail who had accompanied them was apparently incompetent but was in fact better suited to arranging her mistress' wardrobe than actually helping her into it for she was said to be heavy handed with pins and Lydia did not care, and said so vocally, to be stabbed at every turn, flounce or attempt to sit. Stiles who wore a velvet set with spencer jacket and ballooned pantalons over silk stockings, was glad that he was not, to again quote Lydia, trussed up like a Christmas ham, every time he dressed. Lydia's gown was made of printed Indian cotton, stiffened with linen, with sprays of dark peonies on an ivory background.

Where when Stiles dressed for high tea it only took perhaps half an hour Lydia could spend up to two hours simply getting dressed, her hair styled and her face painted. It made Stiles glad that he was a vidame and a not a vidama for he had no patience for the fuss, and even as it was he had a tendency to chatter away to his valet who had long since learned to tune him out and to dress him whilst he was writing letters, reading, or one occasion, embroidering a sampler because he just had to finish that flower before tea. His valet had informed his father that dressing Stiles was an art form, not entirely unlike stuffing eels in a box.

Lydia preferred the shorter _robe a la Polonaise_ , which showed her ankles like she was a milk maid who had to worry over her hems, during the day, instead of the more traditional _sacque_ , o  _robe a l'Anglaise_ for the evening and because they had not come out officially to the London season she only had to dress for dinner. It was likely then she would be forced into the more traditional sacque which she complained made her look short.

Stiles had none of that, Lydia made sure he was always in the height of fashion and he wore what his valet put him in. Given the opportunity, he would pull on anything he didn't have to worry about staining or tearing, or Lydia using the cotton lawn apron on her skirt to wipe down. He couldn't help it, he walked into things, tripped over perfectly obvious furniture and caught himself on doors no matter how he tried not to.

At a costume party, he had been dressed as the sun king of France in a dazzling mask and had taken off his mask and immediately walked into a dresser whilst trying to catch himself after tripping over a foot stool that had been in his room as long as he could remember. 

He gestured so fiercely with his hands when he talked that unless Lydia plucked the teacup from his hand those around him had the threat of a scald. He talked too much about every idea that came into his head without even the manner to pretend that the alpha might know more than him, for everyone knew that you should be only smart enough to catch an alpha and then as damn smart as you well liked.

Lydia might have been the height of manners and chic; Stiles was only her stepbrother.

"Are you ready yet?" he asked, Stiles was under strict instruction from his stepmother, Lydia's mother, that they were to appear together so they were both shown to best advantage. Natalie was sweet and dear and fussed over Stiles as much as if he were her own. "It is only tea," he said, "Lady McCall wanted to make it clear that the guests would be arriving throughout the afternoon, so some are here, no one is going to mind if you are not perfect, or are you looking for your diamonds?" 

"I'm ready," she said, coming out, looking every inch the fashion plate, "you know that just because it is a small meet up of intimates is not a reason to look like you have just spent the afternoon picking blackberries."

"I know that you ate as many of those berries as I did," Stiles accused her even as he offered her his arm, "and I think to think Tonkins does an excellent job of making sure that I don't look like the victim of itinerant hedgerows who go around beating people and messing up their hair and clothes."

"And we are thankful for him," she reached up on her toes to kiss his cheek, "for I would not care to share my season with a hedgerow, even one that beat you up for your clothes."

"Its manners are nowhere as fine as mine," Stiles said, "why it wouldn't throw even a single cup of tea around you."

Lydia patted his hand, "and that is why I both love you and sit across the room from you."

\---

When the two omega walked into the room it was to a cluster of people only some of which they recognised. The Lahey brothers had arrived and Colonel Lahey looked fine in his regimental colors, his red jacket and white pants with highly polished black boots. Isaac, like his brother, was tall and slim with a head of curls that would be the envy of any renaissance statuary. The two of them always looked like they had stepped down from the walls of a Venetian cathedral and into modern clothes. They were beautiful in a classic and timeless way, even if Colonel Lahey was wearing the current military fashion of a thick and luxurious moustache which Lydia had spoken of often in private as something that he had brought back from India as a pet and had to feed, and that it was particularly partial to almond biscuits. Between them the siblings called it George.

She was also sure that if Stiles did agree to the proposal everyone knew he was to make that George would have to go, and his removal would be stipulated by their father, who didn't think he could trust a man if he was covered his top lip in hair.

As was common for the Laheys they were accompanied by Lieutenant Parrish who had served in the navy and as such wore a blue frock over a white vest instead of the army's red Stevenson. He did not bother with facial hair and years in the Caribbean had bleached his dark hair blonde and his skin tan. He had recently left his commission due to a family bereavement. Still he brimmed with health and had nothing but kind words and easy charm. 

Lady McCall sat talking with her son, Scott, an alpha whose dark hair was a mess of artfully styled cowlicks. A childhood accident had left him with an uneven jaw that helped define his distinctly blunt looks. Scott was charming and handsome but he had a tendency to use his charm to get his own way and often did not think of consequence, this might have been because he was still in university and his youth had yet to temper his wilful moods. He was determined that he was ready to marry although many of his fellows would have counselled him to wait a score years or more. It was common for an alpha to marry when they were ready to settle into a comfortable middle age, unlike omega who were expected to wed barely out of the nursery.

Rafael, Lord McCall, was a tall slim figure at the window, watching the drive even as he sipped his tea. Stiles and Lord McCall had the sort of personalities that were too similar to truly mesh and conversations between them had a tendency to have both walking away to calm their tempers. It said well of Lord McCall that he never expected Stiles to curb his behavior or opinions, he was even sometimes amused by his tart mouth. Lydia thought that he was an excellent figure of a man and that Lady McCall had been brilliant indeed to catch him when she did.

Lydia might appear every inch the fashionable  _blanc_ but she had a lusty appreciation of the male form.

Leaning against the mantle and watching everyone appear was Lord Peter Hale, an old acquaintance of just about every matron in society and one they knew to keep from their children. Peter had a wolf's grin, and both Stiles and Lydia had met him when he had called on their mother, with gifts and easy charm, flirting with everyone in the house. He cut a fine figure in his blue superfine, chosen to match his eyes.

Unusually for him he wore a heavy chain from his buttonhole to his pocket, one that glittered brightly, where he kept his watch. It was not unusual for him to wear a watch, but for it to be so obvious seemed very out of character.

He was talking with the alpha who had arrived at the kitchens that afternoon, the one with the dark hair and beard covered in mud. He was built like a laborer and seemed intent to scowl into the plate of scones that he had been served, grunting in lieu of speech nevertheless Lord Peter was happily talking to him, which meant that only the Argents, Lord Christopher, Lady Catherine and Vidama Allison were yet to arrive.

Seeing them in the door Lord McCall put down his tea and smiled, "I believe I informed you all that the Stilinski omega were summering with us," he looked across at the man on the couch with the dark hair and beard, "Silverdale," he named him, "like you they are unable to join us on the hunt, I am sure that you shall all be kept entertained."

"What about Vidama Allison, father?" Scott asked and Mr Lahey, Isaac, rolled his eyes at the question, "will she be joining us at the hunt."

"In regards to your question, Scott," Lydia said smoothly, "Vidama Allison loves the hunt, it is only fear for my brother slipping from his horse and breaking his neck that means we cannot, after all he must be chaperoned," there was polite laughter at that and Lord Peter narrowed his eyes even as he smiled, judging Lydia in a new light, "but I am sure that we shall all have a jolly time whilst you're off hunting." Her smile made it clear that even if something terrible happened it would be reported as jolly.


	3. Chapter 3

Throughout the high tea more and more guests arrived much to Stiles dismay. He had never been a truly personable person, he liked people, and he was liked, but the longer that the acquaintance lasted the more likely he was to become awkward and uncomfortable and say something that would be considered offensive by someone. He did not understand why he had to have different outfits for different parts of the day because it just created more laundry, and although he was not the one doing it it was still a bother to change upwards of five times a day. It could eat up all his free time to be stood there as he was fussed over and his hair styled and then be immediately scolded for his nervous habit of running his hands through it. He wasn't the same sort of doll as Lydia who enjoyed being primped and preened for others to appreciate. Stiles was just as likely to step down from his dressing stool and immediately fall face first into his bureau.

So having to remain pristine and not splatter himself with cream or jam before the last of the guests arrived was proving to become more and more difficult, because the cream was not remaining set in the hot weather and the jam wasn't much better. The cakes and fancies looked delicious but he knew if he picked one up he would end up with most of it down his vest and then he would have to change again or meet the guests covered in cream. So he kept sipping his tea. 

He wasn't hungry but there was only so much self-restraint a person could be expected to have when faced with a table full of cake. The sooner everyone arrived the sooner he could secret a plate away to eat before he dressed for dinner. 

The Laheys were minding their own business and Scott was determined to bicker with Isaac over Allison, as if Allison didn't have a mind of her own and it was her choice that mattered, but Scott was never one to take no for an answer and it was only a matter of time before that erupted, and that would certainly spill over, because Camden would get involved, and that would cause Rafael to interfere, which would mean Lord Peter would have to step in before it became pistols at dawn between the two young men, and Allison smacking both of them around the back of their heads with her fan for being so damn stupid in the first place.

And maybe Lydia could manage tiny pieces of apple and clove tart with her fork but Stiles wanted nothing more than to shove an entire scone in his mouth so that he didn't say something.

"Vesdames," Lahey's friend, Parrish, said moving over to join them on a chair facing the couch where they sat together, "I have heard you will not be joining us for the hunt tomorrow," he said, "I was looking forward to it," he looked at Lydia who looked back at him through her lashes. Lydia enjoyed Lieutenant Parrish's company but she was not set on choosing a suitor and would not until she had her season, for she would not be denied it. It had been her dream since she was a baby. She was happy for gentlemen that she considered prospective suitors to make love to her, however. 

"It is a loss," Lydia lied, for she had no intention of getting on horseback for a hunt, which was a mad dash through the woods which saw everyone covered in mud and scratched by brambles in the hope of terrorizing a small animal, and if they did catch it, which she hoped that they did not, a person that was on their first hunt, as she would be, would have the blood from its tail smeared all over her face. Lydia had blamed Stiles' lack of coordination on their inability to hunt and she was sticking to it, even if Stiles actually had a fine seat on a horse and would have liked the exercise, but now the two were to be left alone with the curmudgeon on the other couch who was making grunting noises that he was unaware of when he moved, which Stiles did not look forward to.

"It looks like a storm tonight," Parrish said, "you might have an idea, the ground will be sopping tomorrow, I doubt we'll catch anything, it might come to pheasant shooting instead." 

Stiles turned and looked out of the window where the sky was clear and bright blue without even a single fluffy cloud scudding across it. He could see no hint of a storm but he didn't want to contradict Parrish, he was trying so hard to make conversation. "Hopefully the Argents will have arrived by then," Stiles said, "it would not be pleasant to be caught in a storm in a carriage, I doubt it would be as violent as a storm at sea but it does make the carriage rock and surge like one is at sea."

"It also makes my brother cast his accounts," Lydia said with a soft smile, "it is most unpleasant travelling with him when there is the weather."

"It is good to stretch the spine," Stiles answered, aware that his tone was just a little of what Natalie called snippy, "hanging out of a carriage window like that."

Parrish laughed, "after months at sea I must admit to casting my accounts in a carriage too," he was so easy and personable that he was trying to stop the siblings bickering, "I did not think to stick my head out of the window and was not alone in the post." The way he said it made Stiles laugh out loud because it was just so amusing, that he would admit to something so very mortifying, "she had a dog that until then had been jumping up into her lap and down again in a silly game, after that the dog remained on the floor." Stiles couldn't help the laughter as it continued, "I had to wipe the poor animal off with my necktie."

"The poor thing," Lydia said.

"The look on her owner's face, I did try to warn her I felt unwell and we should pull the carriage over but she was determined, she didn't see why she should lose time on her journey just because I was unwell, I doubt she'd voice the same opinion now, the second time I thought it would happen we stopped the carriage."

Stiles' bray of laughter must have been loud for the curmudgeon with the beard, whom Lady McCall had called Silverdale, looked across with a disapproving look, pressing his lips together. He was a fine looking gentleman, broad as a wardrobe with fine calves and thighs on display in a pair of breeches that didn't seem to quite fit, but his temper was as sour as lemon squeezed into tea. He had light colored eyes but his hair was so dark, and although his beard was neatly trimmed, it was the main feature of his face. 

He was certainly handsome but his entire personality seemed to be anger and long snorts of air through his nose to show his displeasure. And a lot displeased him. He hadn't even eaten any of the cakes, and instead of drinking Lady McCall's fine tea he had a separate pot made and pulled faces at what he was drinking. 

It was not that Stiles attention was drawn to him, which it absolutely was not, it was that he kept making these noises, grunts, growls and huffs, that caused Stiles to look at him. 

Silverdale seemed displeased at everything Stiles was and did and that annoyed Stiles immensely.

Stiles was aware that he was not a paragon of virtue. He was not as lovely as Lydia or most of the society omegas. He knew his limbs were too long and he fell over his own feet but he did not know what it was that he had done to offend this man so that he kept looking over to him and making those angry noises. It was infuriating and made worse when Dr. Finstock, who was pleasant, if a little bizarre, and rather obsessed with lawn tennis, and had come on a rare quiet day to help them play battledore and shuttlecock with coaching, sat with the man, and veritably forced him into a conversation. He spent the whole of it staring at Stiles so intently that his gaze should have burned a hole straight through him. 

Stiles was not the only one to be aware of that gaze, Finstock, Colonel Lahey and Lord Peter all took notice, and Stile was made aware of it because Lord Peter and Colonel Lahey said his name and looked across at Silverdale before returning to their conversation, which was too quiet for Stiles to hear.

"An admirer, brother?" Lydia said noticing Silverdale for the first time, as she reached over to pour more tea into his cup.

"I do not know why he stares at me so," Stiles said, "I think he is hoping I will change my mind about the hunt so he can drag me behind some trees and murder me."

Lydia's laugh was fondly mocking, "perhaps that is not why he wants to drag you behind those trees."

Stiles looked at Silverdale again, "no, he definitely wants to murder me and bury me under the folly, Lieutenant Parrish, you must defend me, I don't want to be buried under the folly, they hired a hermit to read bad poetry, I do not want my grave to be marked by a few bad lyrics by John Donne, Come lie with me and be my love should not be my epitaph."

"Come lie with me is Andrew Marvell," Lydia corrected, and she sounded a little petulant as she said it, "come live with me is John Donne."

"No," Stiles corrected her, "That's Christopher Marlowe," he knew his poetry and he knew he had this right and poor Lt Parrish just watched the two of them bicker and his look was one of amazement. 

 

\---

"He's a fine looking lad," Finstock said sitting down next to Derek, "but he might not like you staring at him like that."

"I'm trying not to," Derek said, "but I'm so stiff and sore I can't turn my damned head." He had been stuck in this position for the past ten minutes and every attempt he made to move was met with a grunt and severe pain. He knew he had not broken anything in his tumble but he ached as if he had shattered every bone. He was going to need help getting out of the damned couch. 

"As a physician, I must suggest you move as much as possible, or you'll stiffen up worse," Finstock noted with approval that he was drinking the rosehip tea he had recommended for the pain.

"Worse?" Derek asked, "I feel like my joints have been nailed together as it is," he wanted to sulk but he wasn't' sure he could move enough muscles to manage it. His back felt like a rigid board and the pain shooting up his neck was giving him a terrible headache. The rosehip tea was unpleasant and gritty with ground up willow bark in it, and he was beginning to consider begging the physician for laudanum just to ease the pain in his thighs. Every part of him hurt and with his neck locked he could do nothing but face the very loud omega whose laugh was cutting through him like a knife. He knew that the omega wasn't laughing at him but every time he laughed it was like running a rasp over his nerves. 

"Tomorrow if you are not joining the hunt," it was made clear that Derek had no intent of it, "you can watch them play battledore, over the summer they've gotten quite good at it," and that was enough for him to launch off on conversation about the sport and how it was weaker, clearly, than lawn tennis which was a pale imitation of tennis which omega weren't really suited to play, but lawn tennis was played in high summer and involved them running about in the sun which was clearly not appropriate for omega, for they had more delicate health, and when the two had started playing they had the ability of his dead grandmother and it just went on and on. Derek wanted to tune him out but he was so loud and earnest, clearly as mad as a bag of weasels, but earnest in his diction. 

Derek had come to Eyam about his uncle's business. Peter worked secretly for the Home Office as a code-maker for the army, which meant that he created the codes that encrypted orders and other things from the front on the Peninsula to London and vice versa. Peter had evidence that there was a spy and that someone in the group that was assembled had links to the cell that was passing on the information to the French, so Peter had spoken to Lord McCall and giving him a list of people who were to be invited if possible, this was one of several stings that were happening across the country. 

On his watch chain, which he was making sure was very obvious, he wore a seal, although it was a fake, that would allow the code to be changed, this would be devastating for the war effort as it would mean that they could not only intercept messages and easily unencode them, but send messages with false orders and arrange ambushes. So Peter's plan was that the seal would be left unattended and then they could find out who was responsible by catching the thief with as little fuss as possible.

The party would continue and Derek and the culprit would leave together as gentlemen on their way to a group of heavies who would extricate any information from them.

Or at least that had been the plan, now Derek was stuck in the house due to being thrown from his horse by what might have been a wolpertinger and he was one giant bruise and the Home Office needed him to investigate and that damned omega couldn't stop looking at him.


	4. Chapter 4

The Argent carriage arrived at the same time as the storm that Lieutenant Parrish had predicted, with heavy wet splats on the gravel drive that seemingly came out of nowhere. The three of them hurried inside whilst their staff moved the carriage around to the back entrance and carried their luggage in. Vidama Argent was accompanied by her aunt, Lady Woodrow, who insisted people call her Kate but whom no one did, and her father Lord Christopher who was a keen hunter and it was said if you wished him to attend any sort of social engagement make sure that horses and hounds were involved. Allison's mother, Victoria, remained at home for she did not care for the McCalls and so would not attend any of their social events.

It was only at the urging of her son that Lady McCall had invited them at all, for he had convinced his mother of a courtship between himself and the vidama which seemed to exist entirely in his own mind.

As soon as they saw each other Lydia and Allison gave out a little squeal of delight and rushed across to each other, like lovebirds reunited after a period apart, and Stiles was left stood to the left of them looking uncomfortable. "Dearest Lydia," Allison said kissing her friend on both cheeks, "I have missed you so much if you had not been present I would have urged my father to refuse the invitation."

"Come now, dearest," Lydia said looping her arm through her friend's to lead her upstairs whilst her father and aunt fussed with their outerwear, "we'll get tea sent upstairs and you out of those wet things," Allison's clothes were not at all wet, "and we must catch up before supper."

"Do you want me to," Stiles made a loose gesture that could have represented anything but was intended to suggest that he find himself other amusements. 

"Don't be silly," Allison said and her smile was bright and dimpled, "you must join us too." Allison was as tall as Stiles and as slender, with a shock of black curls held up under a that matched her dress of toile de Jouy edged in white lace, with a large rosette of flowers fixed to her fichu. It was a beautiful dress of pleats and pinking that flattered her height and the rakish tilt of her hat made her look demure as suited an omega who was yet to marry. Allison always looked like she had freshly stepped off a fashion plate. She made Stiles feel frumpy even though it was absolutely not her intent to do so. Allison was a sweet dear girl who lacked a bad word for anyone, but if crossed had the same dark and terrifying temper as her aunt, who was known for it. It was said that Kate had blinded a girl with her riding whip in a London coffee shop for spoiling her riding habit with a slop of coffee from a saucer placed on the table carelessly. Of course, everyone laughed off the accusation but were more careful in how they carried drinks around her.

Lady Woodrow had grown into her beauty in a way that promised well for her niece, she had dark honey blonde hair that fell in easy locks and was kept in a braid a'la Francaise apart from wisps which were allowed to artlessly, or so it seemed, fall around her face. Her features were sharp but the tip of her nose was turned up with a small dimple which was considered her finest feature. She had a smile like a knife edge and her eyes were sharp and wicked. She wore gowns that always struck Stiles as being too fashionable, if such a thing could be said, they were too expensive for what she was doing, too elaborate but always within the distinct rules of society. Even now, for travel, where her niece wore a pleasant toile de Jouy which was appropriate for late summer she wore a heavy satin that was just a little too shiny as if it had been waxed and polished. Her brother wore wool and doeskin and even with his top hat he looked like he had just left the hunt and should have a bevy of dogs at his heels. He was, like most of the family were, handsome, with silvery hair but his eyes were cold, especially when he smiled and it was as sharp as his sister's, but he did not share her reputation for casual violence. He was known as a hunter, and that when he set his eyes upon a thing he did not stop until it was his own, but he was considered fair and patient. It was a dogged patience that said more of his predatorial habits than indolence.

Lydia had confided in Stiles once, when they had snuck off with a bottle of wine, opened but not decanted, into the gardens of their London house, that had he not been married - and Victoria Argent was terrifying although no one could say why it was that they were so scared of her - she might have set her cap at him for he was handsome and had a very fine figure with excellent calves. Which of course meant that the next time Stiles saw him he looked at his calves and then was rewarded by his father clapping his hand around the back of Stiles' neck and drawing him off for a very uncomfortable lecture about openly leering and what was appropriate.

Allison had always made a point to include Stiles even though they had nothing in common, Lydia accepted him much the same way she might accept that she had a limb, useful but otherwise not worthy of mention, but Allison had written in her letters that it might be that she and Stiles might become siblings if Mr. Lahey finally made his courtship of her official because all of London knew that it would not be long before Colonel Lahey proposed to Stiles and then all three of them would be family.

"The roads are unbearable," Lord Argent said to Lady McCall when she came to greet them, "the Loughborough Militia have closed almost all of them for some kind of exercise, I worried that we might have to exchange silver to get through, it is certainly a chore. I do hope this will not affect the hunt."

"Certainly not," Lady McCall said, offended by the very idea, "we have arranged with the local landowners just in case it spills over into their woods, I am more worried about that storm coming in. The day was so clear," she took Lady Woodrow's gloves before handing them to one of the footmen, "Lieutenant Parrish warned us that there was a wicked storm blowing in and we laughed but it is coming down now."

Lady Woodrow smiled, "I find with sailors it is best to listen to their predictions to the weather."

"Do you know Lieutenant Parrish?" Lady McCall asked, "he did not say that you shared an acquaintance."

"We do not," Lady Woodrow said with a mollifying smile, "but he is a lieutenant which is a rank saved for the navy, it was hardly a leap that he might be more comfortable at sea." Lady McCall returned the smile which was just a little mocking. "But I look forward to making his acquaintance."

"I have noticed that your husband has not joined us," Lady McCall said. The entire affair, Stiles noticed, was a perfect exercise in saying things that were exactly polite and yet were vicious. They were the sort of polite conversations that cut deep.

"Lord Woodrow does not care to hunt," she said with a gesture to her mouth with her handkerchief. All of London knew what Lord Woodrow cared to fill his time with, rakehells and the boarding houses of Mayfair. "It is difficult to tease him from the city." 

"I have heard he enjoys the ballet of the opera house," Lady McCall said leading Lady Woodrow into the salon where people were gathered to have tea, again everyone knew that Lord Woodrow liked one of the principal dancers and was spending his wife's fortune on keeping her. "Of course we cannot offer such culture."

"Of course," Lady Woodrow agreed, "but we should not spoil such a day with talk of the ballet, it is merely an amusement between scenes of the opera to allow us to fetch refreshment and show off our new gowns."

"And jewelry," Lady McCall said, and Lady Woodrow's hand went to her wrist where for years she had worn a distinctive bangle and was absent, gossip said that Lord Woodrow had pawned it, or worse, given it to his mistress.

"We have more important things to discuss," Lady Woodrow said through gritted teeth, "like tea and horseflesh and whether or not our resident weather sage can promise us a fine ride."

As he went up the stairs to the nursery, where he and Lydia were housed, he felt rather sorry for Lieutenant Parrish.

 

\---

Before the arrival of the Argents Derek had, at the insistence of Dr. Finstock, and with the intent of getting away from the doctor, taken his cane for a short walk around the house. He was that sore and stiff that he did not think he could manage much more and any respite he sought from company where he could grunt and groan to his heart's content over the pain he was in without drawing any more eyes askance than he already had was ruined by his uncle deciding to accompany him. "Good lord, man," Peter said, "what is wrong with you?"

The feeling of someone acknowledging he was not well without trying to fix him was so welcome he thought he might cry and instead made a sort of distressed noise, before he explained, in short, taciturn sentences about the horror that was his day. To his credit, Peter did not laugh. He would laugh about it later, but there and then he did not laugh. Instead, he suggested, for Peter was known to have a suggestion for everything, hot compresses to try and loosen the muscles and told, as Derek limped around the house, about when he fell from his horse and Derek's dear sainted mother had elected to nurse him, which had been a traumatic experience of everyone involved for Talia had been as caring as a snake. She was an excellent person, she just was neither maternal or compassionate. If she expressed her power it was after much thought and for the benefit of the common man, but it wasn't because she cared, as much as she felt it an obligation. It was something of a family trait for Peter lacked even that much compassion. He understood Derek hurt because he had suffered a similar state of distress, not because he wanted Derek to be well beyond his usefulness to Peter. And Peter liked Derek, of their family Derek was the closest to Peter.

"Well, I'm told Dr. Finstock is an excellent physician," Peter said, "even if he is clearly as mad as a hatter."

"He keeps talking to me," Derek whined, "and I am prevented only from strangling him to make him stop by the inability to lift my arms, and worse yet he thinks that I have an interest in that boy omega."

Peter's smile snaked across his face, "the lovely Stilinski boy," Peter made a point of knowing everyone worth knowing, even omega who were yet to come out. "He will be coming out in January if Colonel Lahey doesn't snap him up first, half the gossip this summer has been that Lahey has designs on the boy's fortune. It's said that not only his eyes are golden."

"Are you looking for a bride, uncle?" Derek asked archly. It was well known that Peter was an inveterate bachelor who was rich enough to not need to search for a fortune in an omega's wedding bed. 

"I'm not the one who was staring at him and glowering," Peter replied, "it was almost as if you could not move your head, or at least might enjoy the pretense of it." Derek made a noise of discontent. "Rest assured, nephew, he is perhaps one of the very few here for this party I do not think capable of the treason we plan to rout. You could steal him out from under Lahey if you wished, for as you stared at him and frowned, he noticed you staring and frowned just as sharply."

"Uncle, you are nowhere near as charming as you think yourself." 

"Nonsense," Peter said, sitting on the wall that edged the cellar stairs to prevent people falling down by mistake, and gesturing that Derek take the opportunity to sit and ease the pain he was clearly in, "I'm positively delightful."

"That word doesn't mean what you think it means," Derek answered, quite content to be a curmudgeon.

Peter laughed and then sobered like a switch had been thrown. "I shall leave my watch and seal on the secretaire in my room tonight with the door ajar when I go for dinner, I shall make sure to be among the first at table, I trust I can rely on you to be among the last and to check whether or not it is still there. I will be among the last to retire, the traitor will have plenty of opportunity to take it. After that it will simply be a matter of finding the thief, the Loughborough Militia has been paid to close the roads under the pretense of a military training exercise, if the watch is not taken then we can rule out everyone here." He squinted up at the sky, "I do believe that Lieutenant Parrish was correct, there will be a storm tonight."


	5. Chapter 5

Peter's plan that Derek be the last to attend dinner turned out to be an act of necessity, Finstock insisted that he have another massage, with a warming cinnamon based oil that made him stink like the bilge hold of a spice trader's sloop, and Finstock gave Derek a lecture about how he had discovered the oil and a night in the woods with no clothes on that was not only inappropriate but meant that he now knew things about the doctor he had no intention of ever learning because he was very much a captive audience, but the exercises that Finstock forced him through did help. Nevertheless, he imagined everyone else was sitting down to dinner by the time he came down the stairs, after checking on the table by the open door of Peter's room.

As he checked in he noticed that Peter's sweetener of a purse of sovereigns, spilled across the table, was still there but the watch was gone. Whoever the traitor was he had taken the bait. He was just turning when he bumped, physically, into the young Stilinski omega who was rushing down the corridor as he fixed pins in his hair, muttering around those in his mouth that he was going to be late and that Lydia was going to kill him. He was lucky when he fell to his ass that he had not swallowed any of them, even if he had stabbed himself in the scalp. Derek was just bumped against the door frame and made a noise like a dying whale as the percussion sounded deep in his bones.

"I am so sorry," the omega said, clambering to his feet in a display of limbs that seemed uncoordinated like he was a crane fly in red velvet pantalons, "I wasn't look," he changed track mid-word, "what were you doing in that room?" Now he stood up he took a step back, "were you stealing?" he looked over Derek's shoulder to the bag of coins, "put whatever you took back and I won't scream, now." He probably didn't realize that the weapon he was threatening Derek with was a hairpin.

Peter had spoken truly when he had said that the boy was lovely, he had creamy skin flecked with little natural  _mouche_ and his dark hair was pinned up with white elderflowers, the color matching the singular flash of white at his throat where his jabot fell in a sprawl of lace. The velvet was embroidered with tiny anemones that were little flashes of shimmer in the tactile fabric, and his white stockings ended in matching velvet shoes. It was quite inappropriate for an omega who was yet to have his first season, let alone marry, to wear such a brilliant color. He should have been wearing white or pastels, and it looked like there was a sort of pearl shimmer to his skin in the fading sunlight.

"I noticed that the door was open," Derek said, "I was going to close the door, I can turn my pockets out to prove to you I took nothing," leaning heavily on the borrowed cane he hooked his thumb into the pocket of his borrowed vest, it was barely as deep as the first knuckle and would be useless for carrying, or concealing anything.

"But I'm sure that I saw his watch there when I went up to change," the boy was frowning, his eyes looking down at the carpet but still narrowed, "if you don't have it, and Lord Peter hasn't been up the stairs, who could have taken it?"

"You could have taken it," Derek offered. 

"When? I walked into a serving girl carrying a gravy boat, I had to rush up the back stairs to change," the boy said, "I haven't had the opportunity to do more than that, it takes such a time to look like this, and then it's with help." 

"You did a good job," Derek muttered, and the boy looked at him askance as if he had misheard the compliment. "I was with Finstock, surely you can smell his cure. I smell like a," he cut himself off from what he had been about to say because there were things that people didn't speak of with omegas, especially young ones, "spice trader at the end of a long day."

The boy tilted his head up and took a deep, noisy breath through his nose and then conceded the point. "You can say Arabian whore house," he said, "I'm not going to blush, not with this much pearl powder on," he tilted his head, one of the wisps of hair he had tried to pin into place coming loose. "But here's the question, if I didn't take the watch, and you didn't take the watch, who did?" He paused before he continued. "Could Lord Peter have sent someone up for it, if he had forgotten it he might have," then he shook his head, he stopped for a moment, looking around for the hairpins he had lost on the floor and cheering a little when he found each one, "Lord Peter is too vain to have done something so silly," he said, twisting the pins back into his hair, "he would have checked his appearance ten times before he left the room. If the watch was left in his room it was because he didn't want to wear it."

Derek had to concede that point because it described his uncle perfectly. He was so vain that if he had left the watch under normal circumstances that it would be because he didn't want to wear it, or more specifically because it ruined the lines of what he had chosen to wear.

"So that's three people who haven't stolen the watch," the boy continued, "and the servants haven't."

"What makes you say that?" Derek asked because he did want to know what the omega would presume, if he had ruled it out it was with the same keen eye that had described Peter so clearly. 

"What is this then?" Finstock said coming along, he was rubbing some lotion or another into his hands possibly to kill the stench of the warming oil from his skin, "I would hardly say that this is appropriate," he grinned and it wasn't leering, but it was hard to tell because he had such overexaggerated expressions that his eyes just bulged. "Young unmarried alpha meeting an unpresented omega in a dark hallway."

"It was an accident, Doctor," the vidama said, suddenly flustered, "we were just going downstairs."

"Is that why your hair is half undone, vidame?" he gave them a skeptical look, "I don't care, not my business, but no getting bound up on my watch, the last thing I want to do is have to deny to your father that I knew about this, your father is a crack shot if I remember correctly, so if you're going to tap it wrap it, skins are the way to go and that is my opinion as a medical professional, do you have some? if not I have some spare. I've been giving them out to the girls in town, you can guarantee some young buck looking to get his knot squeezed is going to do whatever he can to find a hole to stick it in, but you give it to the hole in question they're much more likely to get used and you don't have some girl knocking you up at dawn-break asking for tansy or angelica because some young buck got them in trouble, I swear the girls around here slide out of the womb knowing exactly what herbs you need but not one of them would know what it looks like or how to prepare it, and even then they don't work." 

He seemed set to continue until Derek interrupted him. "Is this sort of conversation appropriate, doctor, for the present company?" The young vidame had proved himself false by being able to blush quite prettily under his coating of pearl powder.

"Why ever not?" he asked, "Vidame has the same hungers and desires as the average knothead," he said, "and I am not one to judge about what two people get up to in the privacy of a dark corner but for the love of God, wrap it up, babies are the last thing on a very long list of things that can happen."

"Like being shot by my father," the vidame muttered, "he is a crack shot."

"That too," Finstock said, "now are we going down to dinner, I'm told the lamb is exquisite. I'm especially looking forward to the gravy, Martha makes it with the juices of the meat and the vegetables with Madeira, it's a thing of beauty."

"About that," the vidame said, and as he talked to the doctor, telling him about the terrible accident that the gravy and china gravy boat had undergone they walked down the stairs, Derek limping behind on his borrowed cane.

\---

Everyone was downstairs and dressed for dinner. The doors to the salons and sitting rooms were open as was the open hall where balls would once have been held, and was now a gallery used for battledore, although the net had been lowered and the posts were hidden away, and a large fire dominated the hall. The table was set for dinner but most everyone was stood around with glasses of white wine held aloft. 

The pale colors of the day's wear replaced by boldly colored finery that would have looked more at home in a London assembly room than a small manor in the wilds of Derbyshire. Lady McCall had chosen a gown of golden satin jacquard with a quilted stomacher and shell shaped pinking trim, but Lady Woodrow had chosen a gown of midnight blue watered silk with a peach stomacher and a trail of peach roses that stood out in the dark fabric like stars.

In contrast the two vidama looked almost plain. 

Allison was wearing a grey dupioni silk gown of separate parts with a fake zona effect given by pinking and straight sleeves that would not have looked out of place on a child, but paired with a dark red velvet belt with diamond buckle that drew the eye. Unlike her aunt she was wearing no jewelry and her hair was a loose cloud of curls held back with a red velvet ribbon.

Lydia looked glorious in a robin's egg blue. She had chosen a polonaise style but the dress was made of heavy silk with a very fine stripe of a darker blue and grey so that it was not immediately apparent that it was a patterned fabric at all. She had paired it with a pair of pearl drop earrings and a collar of five strings of river pearls that Stiles knew for a fact belonged to her mother. The two were stood beside the fireplace drinking lemonade from wine glasses and tittering over something that seemed to do with Lieutenant Parrish's footwear for although they were the height of fashion with a square heel of near an inch and a squared toe he seemed most uncomfortable in them and kept sliding his foot down towards the toe suggested a blister was forming, and he did not want to wear them. 

Lieutenant Parrish and Colonel Lahey both wore their regimental colors and were stood at the window talking, but the other gentlemen wore superfines in dark colors paired with white breeches and the same high shoes, except Lord Peter who had chosen buckskin in a brilliant white and hunting boots. He was noticeably absent the watch and chain which had dominated his outfit earlier in the day. Stiles wanted to tell him that his watch was missing but the large man who Stiles had heard tell was called Silverdale hobbled over to him leaning heavily on his cane, and as he spoke to Peter he looked over at Stiles.

"Oh," said Doctor Finstock to his side as if he had had a massive revelation, "I see how it is," which made no sense to Stiles at all and wandered off to where young Lahey and Scott were bickering and staring at poor Allison whose policy towards her young lovers was to ignore them in the hope that they would resolve it between themselves without her having to get involved. Allison's father was more surreptitious in watching them than they were in watching her but did so in conversation with Lady McCall, Lady Woodrow and Lord McCall himself.

Outside the wind was whipping up, and the rain came in heavy waves, Stiles would not be surprised to hear that a few of the trees might be toppled in the storm as it was becoming, and he hoped that there was something to prevent such a heavy deluge making its way inside as it slopped down the stairs to the basement for it would make even more work for the kitchens and with so many people visiting they were already run ragged. And if the storm had not abated by morning no one would go hunting and he would have to spend the day in conversation with them.

With a nod of his head to his hosts, Stiles crossed the room and joined Lydia and Allison by the fireplace. "Arriving with your laborer?" Lydia asked with a raised eyebrow, "that will set tongues wagging, Colonel Lahey won't be pleased, why we shall have to console poor George caught in the middle."

"And Doctor Finstock," Stiles said as Allison asked "who is George? I had thought the Colonel was called Camden."

"Oh he is, George is the thing on Colonel Lahey's face," Lydia said sweetly, "after he returned to from India with it we decided it must be a local creature and gave it a name, we even know what kind of biscuits it prefers, hoarding them for later." Allison couldn't help her laugh, "the Colonel thinks it makes him look dashing, it looks awful, like he hasn't trimmed his nasal hair in six months."

"Or longer," Stiles agreed, "but he will insist that George gets his share, at dinner, watch, half of his meal goes to his facial parasite."

"My father, thinking it would be fashionable grew a beard once," Allison admitted, "it was awful, my mother would not let him in the house until it was gone. He goes to the Americas for half a year and comes back looking like a Silverthorn bramble has gotten caught on his face, Mother said that either it went or she did and was holding a razor as she said it, Father never looked so well groomed as he did after that." Christophe Argent may have been a fierce hunter, and a cold man, but he both adored and feared his wife in equal measure and with good reason, she was terrifying. Stiles lived in constant fear that he would offend her in some way and earn her ire.

"Wouldn't it be amusing," Lydia said with a little smile that promised mischief, "if we told your forlorn hopes over there," she looked at the two alphas bickering on the bench so that they both might have a better view of Allison than the other did, "that you were very admiring of George, of course, we'd word it better than that, but see how long it would take them to try and grow their own."

Allison laughed, flicking up her fan in a practiced response to hide the gesture, "Oh, Lydia, you are wicked, lets."

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Although Derek wanted to continue his conversation with the omega the cut and thrust of the social standing in the room made that impossible. He knew he was not at his best. When the horse threw him he was not only put in a world of pain which he had not thought was a thing, but that pain made it hard to think. He also knew that if he took the laudanum to help with the pain it would dull his wits more and Peter's plan needed him clear-headed - even enough to drink the foul tea that Finstock was adamant would help. The omega, to whom he had not been introduced but knew was called Stiles, had a suspicion about the servants that would rule them out and for the life of him Derek could not work out what it was.

Leaning on his cane he hobbled over to the couch and sat down next to his uncle. It was expected that at events like this that the guests would gather for cocktails at least an hour before dinner was ready to be served, this allowed everyone to sit at the table at the same time. "The watch is gone," Derek said, accepting another cup of the tea from one of the footmen who brought it over in a fine bone china cup which he accepted gratefully.

"Any suspects yet?" Peter asked, "I noticed you coming in with the Stilinski boy," Peter made it look like they were having a delightful and witty conversation even though that was the last thing that they were doing. "Beautiful, isn't he?"

"It is a wonder you work for the government with your head in your knot all the time," Derek was too sore to put up with Peter's usual braggadocio. 

"I love my country," Peter said, "I love beauty more, and here we have three of the loveliest omega in the country, dear Melissa and, well," he looked at Lady Woodrow, "even the men are handsome, have you seen a lovelier complement of people."

"I doubt they were picked for their looks, uncle," Derek answered, wondering if a splash of gin would make the tea more pleasant.

"No," Peter agreed, "but it is a pleasant addition nonetheless, although Colonel Lahey is marred by that terrible military faux pas of a facial adornment." He made a face at the thought of it, his own facial hair was perfectly trimmed and Derek was personally of the opinion that it made him look like a Renaissance demon. "You do know that he is expected to offer for the Stilinski boy, it's the talk of London."

"I do not pay attention to gossip, uncle," Derek liked to remind Peter of the difference in their ages.

"I think that before you arrived here you were unaware that the boy was of age and due his first season, why his place in the presentation to the queen is already assured," Derek didn't know why his uncle was so intent on talking to him about the omega. 

"Which will suit Colonel Lahey well enough."

"Perhaps," Peter always sounded so smug as if he was holding secrets that he enjoyed holding over people. "But I can say that Lahey was not pleased that you arrived with him."

"And Finstock," Derek was keen to point that out, "we can rule out Finstock," he added, "he was with me and so unless I took the watch it couldn't have been him."

"But I know that the Stilinski boy was in blue and went upstairs to change," Peter was clearly plotting something, and Derek suspected that the theft of the watch was the least of it.

"He claims he walked into a serving girl moving a boat of Madeira gravy," Derek told him, "apparently the cooks make it the night before and reheat it to let the flavors bloom, but they bloomed all over him, and he had to change. He was still pinning up his hair when he bumped into me, physically." He wanted to make that clear, "and then he accused me of stealing the watch."

"His father believes the boy's perception is damn near supernatural, I'm not surprised he noticed, you might do well to ally yourself with him. You are impaired at the moment."

"You have no idea," Derek drawled it out, "if I find out what fae creature lurked out of that hedge," he left it open and was near growling. "The horse might have thrown me for the fun of it, that thing is evil, but something did surprise it."

"I remember walking with you as a boy when you jumped near a mile when a cow stuck its head through a hedge," Peter said.

"Yes, uncle, and you damn near pissed yourself laughing."

"As would anyone," Peter said smugly. "Seeing a child damn near jump from his breeches over a docile farm animal will never not be the most fun."

"My lords, might I intrude?" Camden Lahey said standing over them in his regimental reds. He was a tall man, perhaps as many as four inches past six foot, with honey-colored loose blonde curls that were parted to the right and the parting oiled in the military fashion, that fashion continued with his thick mustache that seemed to dominate his face. It was well groomed and tidy but it did not suit him. He had the face of a Catholic angel statue, and it was like someone had stuck a dead rat to its upper lip.

Peter looked delighted at the interruption.

"I could not help but notice that you arrived downstairs with Vidame Stilinski," Lahey said, "I was wondering if I could trouble you for word of your intentions towards him, I apologize for the presumption but it is known that I have been stepping out with him and believe that might allow me the presumption of questioning you."

"I had not met him before today," Derek answered calmly, "and the first I have had to talk to him is when Doctor Finstock and I accompanied him down the stairs, but I must ask will you police such interactions he has after you offer for him?" Everyone knew it was expected. 

"My apologies, my lord," Lahey gave a stiff military bow, "when one has a treasure one can be somewhat covetous of those who might also appreciate it."

Peter had the gall to look enchanted, like he might at any moment burst into laughter at the whole situation, so of course he had to make things worse. "I, of course," he said, "know the boy quite well, I was waiting until his presentation and that he officially be out before I pressed any suit, his father and I go quite far back, I even knew his dear departed mother, saint that she was, but if you have caught his eye," from the pocket of his vest he pulled a kerchief that would be where he normally wore a watch, "well it is not my place to say with whom he could spend his time, even if I was courting him, he has always had such a strong will."

"I find it is one of his most charming features," Lahey at least had the good grace to sound smitten when he said it, "and he is charmingly unaware of the social mores, it is most refreshing after the regimentation of military life."

"That difference between you, him being so," Peter made a gesture with his hand that could have meant anything, "and you being so used to military life, with its rules and regulations, and surely you must miss India, I am told it is quite lovely."

Lahey softened a little at that, "I have every intent to return there after I come into my inheritance, there are great opportunities there for one who is not afraid of a little work."

A look of something dark crossed Peter's expression quickly, so quickly that had Derek not known him so well he would have missed it. "Is that something you have discussed with the young vidame?" he asked, "for uprooting him from all he knows to live his life in India would be something that might distress him, he is very close to his father and sister."

"He would be my mari," Lahey said, "and surely he would be pleased to go where I do, is that not the point of marriage."

"I wouldn't know," he said, "not being married myself, but military wives are so," again he filled it in with a gesture, "but I suppose what I am avoiding asking directly is have you asked him perrsonally how he feels, about you, about India, and the plans that you have made for him?"

"Why would I?" Lahey answered, "his father understands that I would present him with a good life, and we are well matched in personality, he would fit in delightfully in India amongst the military peerage."

Derek decided that he despised Lahey in that minute although before he could not have said that he had spoken to him.

"A strong-willed young omega taken from home and family to a foreign country where he would be surrounded by slaves, I mean servants," the slip was quite deliberate Derek noticed, if Peter said it then it was because he wanted the slip to be noticed, "I can't imagine it would do well for your reputation, I do believe in his place that I would go mad."

"It is well that you are not a vidame then," Lahey sounded insulted by the accusation as if he was not the aggressor in this situation, "and that you, my lord," he looked at Derek then, "have no interest in him." And clipping together the heels of his brightly polished black boots he returned to his previous conversation with his brother and Mr. McCall.

"Derek," Peter said as Lahey clearly told the tale of their rudeness to his fellows, "I will give you one thousand pounds to break that engagement before it happens, I do not care how, but I like the Vidame and I abhor the thought of marrying him to that asshole."

Derek agreed with the sentiment enough that he nodded despite the pain in his neck.

\---

When Allison excused herself for a few moments to visit the privy Stiles took his sister's attention, "someone stole Peter Hale's watch," he said and he could not hide the excitement from his voice.

Lydia who had been looking out over the gathered people much like a merciful queen checking on the happiness of her subjects snapped her head back to her brother to snap at him, "No."

"It is hardly a big deal." Stiles and his sister knew each other so well that often a lot of conversation between them went unspoken but still clearly understood.

"You wish to investigate it, you want to turn this whole affair," she looked across at the partygoers again as if she was hostess and not Lady McCall and they were here to worship her and her ability to make them happy, "into a whole to-do over a stolen bauble, leave it to the alphas, do you want Lahey not to offer for you?"

"But," Stiles was chastened, with his eyes downcast and he started to curl in on himself, a feat for a young man of near six foot.

"It is bad enough that you had to be reminded to put on that suit," she looked him up and down, "he cares for you in regimental colors."

"I hate this suit, you know that," Stiles protested, "it makes me feel like a sundried tomato."

Lydia patted his cheek in condescension, her lace gloves rough against his skin, "you know the game, my love," she said, "we are the perfect dolls they want us to be until we are married  and then we show our true colors, I just want you to be happy,"

"I know, Lyds," he said, and took her hand and kissed her fingertips, "but it might be my last chance to be more than just an omega, if I can find who took the watch, no one would suspect me, and I can tell Lord Peter, you know he knows Father, he won't care if an omega is the one to tell him."

"Stiles," she let him hold her hand for long minutes, "I'd advise you against it, but I also know that you won't listen, because you are my brother and I do love you, I'll listen if you need someone to listen I'm here, but be discreet, don't make it obvious, so don't just go to Lady Woodrow and accuse her, you know how fragile alpha egos are, they won't care to be upstaged by a breeder," her perfect mouth curled around the slur, "the true accomplishment of an omega is letting the alpha think that they are the clever one, and Lahey might react badly if he finds out, and you'll be ruined if he doesn't offer for you after this, because everyone knows, every gossip monger in England will seize on it and there will be a hundred falsehoods that will trail after you. I'd prefer you didn't, but I also know that I won't be able to stop you."

They changed the conversation when Allison came back, still pulling her gloves back into place, like Lydia she was wearing fingerless lace gloves for it was not done to touch the hand of an omega that one was not married to, or whose alpha did not mind but even that was a subject for conversation. "Did I miss something?" she asked.

"Stiles was just complaining that this outfit makes him look like a sun-dried tomato, such as one sees in the markets of London," Lydia said, "although red is absolutely his color, although maybe not _this_ red."

"It's regimental isn't it, we should ask the alphas," she caught the eye of Mr. Isaac Lahey and Mr. Scott McCall, flicking her fan with intent so that both alphas came over, almost falling over themselves and the bench that they had been sat on to do so, to be the first to pay attendance on her, and she laughed prettily behind her fan as if it was not herr intent to make them do that. "We were just discussing," Allison said, she did a thing with her shoulderrs that Stiles would not have been able to replicate if he tried that made her seem softer and invitin, as if she was not Artemis made flesh, "what Vidame is wearing, what do you think, sirs, he thinks that this is not his colour, but we are simple omega and not best suited to know what best pleases alphas, do you think the colour becomes him?"


	7. Chapter 7

Lady McCall had announced that their meal would be served a'la Russe where each course was served individually with a gap between that they might walk, and cleanse their palette between servings. This also allowed the servants to discretely clear away the plates from one to show off the wealth of more place-ware. It took some of the pressure from the kitchen but the entire point was to show off how many exquisite plates that Eyam Hall had despite being outside London. It was one of the reasons that Peter had chosen Eyam Hall as the location for his trap because it afforded Derek the opportunity to talk with the guests and move freely within the social areas of the hall.

That had been decided before Derek was thrown from his horse, back when he was active and not grunting like an old man every time he took too deep a breath. "I need to get the Stilinski Vidame alone," Derek told his uncle.

"Do you now?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow that suggested all manner of improprieties that Derek was not even capable of at the moment.

Derek did not respond to the accusation, Peter might have been a lusty alpha with a mistress in every town but Derek had no intent on copying his infidelities. Peter mostly wanted a reaction so he could tease his nephew. "When the vidame accused me of stealing the watch he said quite sure of himself that the servants could not have done it, but we were interrupted before he could explain his reasoning, obviously I cannot approach him and ask him, but I do not want to spend the weekend ruling out the staff if we can do it in a few well-reasoned words."

"When I hear alphas lamenting the cost of educating their omega children as a waste," Peter said, sipping his wine as with nonchalance like he had not started talking about things that were not involved, "I think of the Stilinski vidame, all that mind and education and nothing to do with it - isn't that a waste?"

"You think I should give the boy a part in the investigation?" Derek was surprised at that, he was sure that there was no danger.

"I think that the Home Office would want you to use any resource at your disposal," Peter said turning his head as if he was not interested in the conversation and was more fascinated by the one taking place between Lady Woodrow and Lady McCall. "But I am fond of the boy, so please try not to ruin him, his father and I meet for billiards every time that I am in London."

\---

"Lydia, " Stiles said sitting on the couch facing his sister, "do you ever wonder why father and Lord Peter are so close but are never seen out and about together?" Stiles was not surprised that the words that he said were not the ones that he had intended to for it often happened with him.

But now that the words had escaped him it was a question that had bothered him. He knew Lord Peter arrived late at night, often after Lydia and Stiles had been put to bed in the nursery where they were spoiler by not having to share that bed with their governess, and left before dawn and the next day their father was tired but unusually pleasant and when Stiles had asked about it he had been told that Lord Peter had come to play billiards.

As far as Stiles knew Lord Peter was the only person that Father played billiards with, and it was always at their house.

"Are you suggesting, Stiles," Lydia said leaning forward which had the deliberate side effect of showing off her bosoms to the room but making it look like she was leaning closer to hear, "that Father and Lord Peter are lovers?"

"Lydia," Allison said with a trill of laughter, "you are so wicked."

"Do you not think that Mother would object?" Stiles asked, "I mean she and Father are happy together, surely she would not care for her husband to be up all night playing billiards."

"She might want to watch," Lydia said sitting back with a smile, "Lord Peter is a fair looking man, and although he is not to my taste I am told that Father is a catch."

"Your father is a very handsome man," Allison was almost ruminating when she said it, with a distant tone that suggested she was thinking of him in particular.

Being made uncomfortable by the topic of conversation Stiles reversed it, "but his calves are not a patch on your father's, Allison," he said sweetly, "I am sure the only thing protecting your father's virtue," he looked across at Lord Argent who was deep in conversation, possibly about dogs, with Lord McCall, "is the fact that everyone is terrified of your mother."

"She is not that scary," Allison pouted.

"Yes, it rather underestimates the fear she creates," Lydia said with a twist to her lips that told that she was funning.

"But what about Camden, Stiles, are his calves not to your liking?" The conversation was pleasant and light, the sort of mockery common between close friends where insult was delivered without malice.

Stiles looked across at his suitor who stood at the fireplace talking to Lieutenant Parrish, who seemed perplexed by the weather which had, in the time since they had descended for dinner, grown worse. He didn't say anything though, he did sigh.

"He is an excellent prospect in marriage," Lydia said, "and his calves are not unacceptable, but what about the ankles of Silverdale, Lord Peter's poor friend he might be but those are excellent shoulders."

"His biceps look like he might be able to crack walnuts in the crook of his elbow," Allison admitted, "I might be more attentive to my suitors if they had arms like that, even if, right now, they are trying to grow moustaches like George over night to please me."

"I think that if you tried you could have them duelling by dawn, it might alleviate the tedium somewhat," Lydia drawled.

"Isaac Lahey is adorable, he is attentive and adoring but I think he wishes things from me that I am not sure that I am happy to provide, he seems most happy around my mother, I think he wishes I were her," she looked across at Lahey who noticed her attention and preened under her gaze.

"Then there is McCall," she screwed up her mouth, "when he is attentive it is like I am the only person in the world and it is heady," she sighed then, looking at her hands, "but he knows the effect that he has and I find myself giving up what freedoms that I have to please him, I do not like who I am when I am with him, but he will not listen that I have no intent to continue our courtship, such as it was."

"I know," Lydia said, "some gentleman convinces himself that he is in love with you and you could throw him in the Thames tied to a piano and he'd still come back faster than a dog with a bone."

"If you ladies will excuse me," Stiles said standing up, "It is my turn to have to visit the necessary, all that dandelion tea that I have been drinking all day has made me seem almost flighty, I come and go like the tide."

"And that, dear brother, was far more information than was necessary, but if you pass by one of the footmen, could you request more of the elderflower wine, thank you." She let him kiss her on the cheek before leaving and, feeling impish, Stiles repeated the gesture upon Allison knowing it would anger her suitors.

\---

As Stiles was leaving the necessary, drying his hands on a cloth the footman offered him he was approached by Silverdale again, "I was hoping to speak to you," he said, he was leaning heavily on his cane and his breath was laboured as he spoke. He looked around to make sure that they were alone. "In regards to Lord Peter's stolen watch, he does not wish to raise a hue and cry until he is awarer exactly it is which is happening, it might be that the watch has fallen down behind his dresser and his man, Theo is investigating this, he wishes to know why you were so keen to dismiss the idea that the servants took it."

"Sir," Stiles protested, "if anyone catches us alone I shall be ruined," he looked around to make sure that no one could see them, "and eveyone knows that Colonel Lahey intends to offer for me, he is short tempered and I cannot think that he would be pleased for us to be alone."

Derek made an angry exhalation of a noise, "Colonel Lahey has made his opinion of you talking to other people clear to me, I am, however, of the opinion that you are allowed thoughts and ideas of your own and allowed to converse with someone over aspects that are not any of his business. He does not own you, even if he does intend to offer for you." Something in the way that Derek said it struck Stiles, he could not have predicted his reaction but it was like he had been delivered a blow.

"Nevertheless, you, sir, are unknown to me but I still would not see you hurt because Colonel Lahey does not share your viewpoints." The words between them felt comfortable as if rehearsed many times over, which was another thing that struck Stiles. "If he sees you re-enter the room with me he might be driven to violence."

"He would raise hands against you?" Derek clutched his fist around his cane.

"No, he would never hurt me," Stiles said, "he is a soldier, however, and a trained marksman, I would not have you duel over a misunderstanding, nor would I want to be the screaming omega in one of Mrs Radcliffe's novels asking that neither of you get hurt because of a misunderstanding, it is so," he shrugged, "I do not care for the drama of it."

"Then I must be quick," Derek said, "why do you think the servants didn't take the watch?"

"The sovereigns," Stiles said, "for it to have any value the watch would have to be pawned which means they'd have to keep it until they could get into the city. And they'd know that if it was taken that the guest would raise a hurrah about it, it would mean them and their quarters being searched and the watch would be difficult to hide and harder to explain." Laid out like that Derek was surprised that he had not considered it at all. "The sovereigns would be much easier to steal, one coin might not be missed, and if it was it would be easier to explain. Even if the watch was much more valuable it isn't worth the effort and risk. The servants wouldn't have taken it because there was an easier prize on the table." He went to push past but the sound of female voices, caused him to stop, and taking Derek by the lapel he pulled him into a dark alcove where they could not be seen by the two servant women carrying the jug of elderflower wine that Lydia had requested.

Stiles watched them go over Derek's shoulder, acutely aware of the peppermint smell of him, warm and refreshing after the close quarters of the sitting rooms. "They're gone," he said, "I should go ahead and you follow after in a few minutes, my reputation might not mean much to you but it is all that I have to protect me from a terrible marriage."

"Then it is not doing a good job," Derek said, and looked at Stiles, truly looked at him. "Just because Colonel Lahey intends to offer for you that does not mean that you should accept."

"If you know something that I do not," Stiles offered.

"It is not my place to say," Derek told him, "go on ahead, I have been stood too long and must sit. I shall follow along in a few minutes."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit late, i've not been well, the site i was using to write had a migration and now is really laggy, my keyboard is in love with the R key and i needed to use the big pain killers so sorry, but better late than never and it's friday somewhere in the world


	8. Chapter 8

Without fear of reproach Stiles left the company of the other omegas and young Mr McCall and Mr Lahey who were paying court to Vidama Argent, and appeared to be moments away from blows, to walk over to Lord Peter who was sitting on his own where his friend, Silverdale, was talking to Dr Finstock meaning that he could talk privately to Lord him. Lord Peter had taken advantage of leaning against the mantlepiece that he might survey the room. "Lord Peter," Stiles said with a deferential bow of the head. Peter was viewing the room much like a king might look out over all of the lands under his purview with a glass of wine in his hand.

Whilst they waited for the dinner gong people had gathered into groups for conversation, Lady Woodrow was talking with Colonel Lahey and Lieutenant Parrish near the windows where the rain was lashing them, discussing, as far as Stiles could tell, whether it was best to use fabric curtains or wooden shutters. Lady McCall stood with her husband, which was unusual, and Lord Argent and they were talking about dogs. Silverdale was deep in conversation with Dr Finstock who was fussing over him and making him annoyed.

"I understand you know about your watch being taken."

Peter nodded to suggest that he did, looking over to where Colonel Lahey was watching the two of them intently whilst managing his conversation with Lieutenant Parrish, in fact his gaze was hot and it looked like he might, at any moment, burst into action. "It appears that your suitor is watching."

Stiles looked across at Colonel Lahey and smiled sweetly before returning his eyes to Lord Peter, "what am I going to do to ruin my reputation in a room full of people? you are not that infamous and Colonel Lahey knows that we have a long acquaintance, you are like an uncle to me."

"Maybe," Peter said with a nod to Lahey to let him know that he was aware of his displeasure, "he just likes to watch."

Stiles couldn't help but laugh, "you are wicked," he said, "and clearly deserve your reputation as a cad." Peter performed a gesture of mock wounding as if Stiles had stabbed him through the heart with the accusation. "My sister advises me not to get involved with the investigation regarding your watch but I know that you know me well enough to understand that my curiosity burns."

"I have never understood why so many people are determined to bank that fire within you," Stiles knew that Peter was a flirt but even this flattery felt perfunctory, "tell me what you have learned, I would rather that you work directly with Silverdale, he is managing my interests in this matter but you will need an excuse to talk to him, but I can take him messages."

Stiles thanked him for his consideration with a dip of the head, "there are people I know cannot have taken the watch," Stiles moved to stand beside Peter so he could look over the room. "Silverdale and Finstock were together but they were the last to descend. I came down with Lydia to help set the table, but I had the upset with the gravy boat and had to change." Peter nodded, "so Lydia could not have taken the watch because she was down before you."

"Lydia was talking with Lieutenant Parrish when I came down, so he was also down before me and also could not have taken the watch." Peter said, "I had already ruled the two of them out.

"Lydia was talking to Lieutenant Parrish alone?" Stiles asked, suddenly worried about his sister's reputation.

Peter noticing it smiled and shook his head, "Lieutenant Parrish is probably the most honourable man in England, I would not worry about her virtue with him. Theo, my manservant, tells me that Lieutenant Parrish has served in a covert fashion for his majesty in the war against the Americans, he has been part of a crew of privateers that have been liberating cargo passing between the French and the Americans, live cargo I am told." The way that Peter said it the word slave was clear. "He has a fine future and the navy is aware of it."

"Is it a fine enough future for Lydia?" Stiles asked, "she looks set to be a diamond of the ton and might not settle for less than a title and a fine estate."

Peter chuffed out a laugh, "it is good that she knows what she wants, I doubt she wishes you to be involved in the investigation, Lahey has expressed that he will offer for you and he is," Peter paused, looking for the word, "unaware of your talents and loathe to see them used."

"He is regimental," Stiles said, "but he intends to offer for me, if he refuses now people will wonder what it is that I have done to drive him away, I am not in a position to refuse his suit for there is no reason for me to do so, he will inherit a fine title and lands, I shall want for nothing."

"And his father's debts," Peter muttered under his breath, "he and his brother are best apart from Lord Lahey."

"I do not know Lord Lahey," Stiles told him, "Colonel Lahey does not speak of him- when he mentions his family it is only that his brother is at university and has plans to become a solicitor."

"That takes blunt," Peter said, "and might take all of Colonel Lahey's wage from the army, he might, and I do not know this as fact you must remember, Vidame, intend to use your dowry to establish a new life for himself away from his father, just as his brother will with his position as a solicitor."

"Is that not what a dowry is for?" Stiles asked, "to make sure that the bride is set in their new life."

"No," Peter corrected "it is to make sure that the bride can survive if their marriage flounders, but too many people use what amounts to a safety net as a deposit on future spending." He took a sip of his wine before he continued, "Colonel Lahey arrived with Lady Woodrow after I came down, I was arranging myself an aperitif when they descended, together." He took another sip of his wine and licked his lips before he continued, "I was, according to your information, the third to come downstairs, not including yourself there was your sister, Lieutenant Parrish and then myself. Lady Woodrow and Colonel Lahey were next, then Lord and Vidama Argent, Lord McCall came in from another entrance so I do not know when he descended the stairs but that was when he joined the group, young Mr McCall and Mr Lahey were next, and Lady McCall was last citing that she had a problem with her maid. Not long after that Silverdale, Dr Finstock and yourself entered, and that covers everyone here does it not?"

Stiles agreed that it did.

"We know that Silverdale, Finstock and yourself did not take the watch so everyone excluding those, Lydia and Lieutenant Parrish are suspect." Peter chewed over the words for a moment before tapping his ring against his glass to help clear his thoughts. "Stiles," he began changing his tone to that of a query, "do you speak Russian?"

Surprised by the question Stiles nearly lost his balance and then told him that he did.

"Excellent," Peter said with a grin that was much rather suited to the villain in one of Mrs Ratcliffe's salacious novels. "Silverdale also speaks Russian, it would give you the opportunity to speak, not for long, privately without raising too much attention. It is a shame, of course, how conversations about Russian literature just works so much better in Russian, don't you think?"

"Do you read Russian literature?" Stiles asked the lord. He did not think that it would be to Peter's taste, and it was hard to find published in English at all, so it would be unlikely that the Lord would have the time to puzzle over Cyrillic, unless he read it as often as Stiles did so he was as comfortable reading it as he was English. Stiles considered that the secret to his own proficiency was his father's atrocious handwriting, after that reading another alphabet was child's play.

Peter barked out a laugh causing Colonel Lahey to glare at them again. "Of course not, sweetheart," Peter said, "I have far too many other things to do." It was strange how Peter made even his mocking flirtatious.

"I am afraid that if I linger too long in conversation with you," Stiles answered, "that you will ruin my virtue and I shall be reduced to meeting with you when you are in town to play billiards."

Peter laughed again, long and loud, and, across the room, Colonel Lahey let out a harrumph of displeasure. "The way you say that, Sweetheart," Peter had been calling Stiles sweetheart for the length of their acquaintance and Stiles knew that he meant nothing by it, "billiards is an excellent euphemism."

"All that stickwork and handling balls," Stiles said with an air of mock innocence, "how could it not be?"

"Go, child," Peter said, "before I ruin you for all others. Your suitor is possibly trying to work out if Lord McCall has pistols or it will come to rapiers at dawn, and if there are two things I hate it's being awake at dawn and rapiers, I never know if I'm supposed to stab something or knit a sweater."

"But, Lord Peter," Stiles said with that same air of mock innocence he had used before, "I am an omega and we get so cold, I'd really appreciate that sweater."

\---

"Do you speak Russian?" Stiles said, sitting down on the chaise next to Derek in a swell of sweet perfume that almost made him heady. "Lord Peter says that you have a deep understanding of Russian Literature, and it's such a shame that it doesn't rrerally translate to English."

Finstock coughed out a laugh, but took the cue he was given and went to talk to Peter who had been on his own until that point. There was not long until the first course of dinner would be served as the smells of food were starting to make themselves known. The sky outside the hall was almost black with storm clouds although through the driving rain it was hard to see across the paths to the manicured gardens. The storm, which seemed to come out of nowhere, did not look to be easing any time soon. He said as much to Peter as he joined him beside the fire.

"While I do enjoy the works of Lomonosov," Derek told him in Russian "I do not think that you want to discuss his worship of Peter the Great."

Stiles, answering him in kind, beamed, "I can't actually stand Lomonosov, I think he's a panderer, but at the same time it's nice to have someone who knows his work, but you're right, if we talk openly in English then everyone will know what we are talking about and here we can maintain a private conversation even if Colonel Lahey is staring at you like he might burn holes in your jacket with just his eyes." He sighed, "even George looks angry."

Derek looked over the room, "George?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Stiles said, "you don't know, George is what we call Colonel Lahey's moustache, clearly it's a pet he took back with him from India, perhaps a parasite he is scared to have removed, but it's bristling, perhaps Lady McCall has dumplings to feed it later."

Derek smiled, he could not help himself, he and Peter had mocked the very same moustache, "Peter and I wondered if it was a floor brush worn because he owed a debt."

He liked the way that Stiles smiled back at him, "if he spoke Russian then he could easily join us in discussing the works of the Russian playwrights," his smile was blinding, "but I do not know about George, I haven't asked him personally." Without missing a beat for Derek was to learn that not only was Stiles incredibly clever but that he could manage several strands of thought and conversation at the same time which would later leave Derek dizzy with the very idea of it. "Lieutenant Parrish could not have taken the watch," Stiles said as the gong calling them to dinner began to ring in the next room, "he was down with my sister before Lord Peter came down, you can rule him out from the investigation."

Stiles stood up and waited whilst Derek labored to a standing position which he did by leaning heavily on his borrowed cane. "I have to go in with Colonel Lahey, Lady McCall has seated us together and I have noticed that he and George seem to be rather jealous that I am spending time with you, but he makes no effort to spend that time with me."

"It was a pleasure, vidame," Derek said with a bow of his head that made his neck creak unpleasantly and it surprised Derek for it genuinely had been. He was a conversationalist that was as much chimera as practised lord for it flickered into many topics and then back to the first without question, often within the same sentence or thought but he was witty in a way that Derek appreciated and he smelled lovely, even over the peppermint stink of the balm that Finstock covered him with.

"The vidame is an excellent battledore player," Finstock said from beside him. Derek wanted to answer that but he had no idea where that it had come from or if it was a euphemism whose meaning he had missed. "Lovely form, he and his sister have been playing almost daily in the long hall." Derek still had no idea what it was that the doctor was trying to suggest to him. "It is nice to hear the two of them laughing." Finstock had the rather superior tone that Peter favoured, that one used when they knew a secret that changed the entire state of play that was happening.

Derek assured him that that would probably be the case and together with the doctor went into the first course.


	9. Chapter 9

After some argument over the seating arrangements caused by the question over the formality of the supper, because both Peter and Derek outranked Lord McCall, Derek by some measure, but the house was Lord McCall's and if the supper was informal then it was his place to sit at the head of the table instead of Derek, but Peter was also a representation of the king and as such should be given the honour. This caused some argument before Derek told Lady McCall that he was happy to sit in the middle of the table, as it made it easier to reach the dishes being served.

Young Mr McCall approached his mother, "are we sitting now?" he asked, "I thought Dr Valack was attending."

Derek had not met a Dr Valack so he paid more attention to the conversation than he might have otherwise.

Lady McCall gave her son a look that should have curdled milk but to which her son was oblivious. "With Lieutenant Parrish attending there is no room, there are only fourteen seats." She said it so firmly that it was clear she had some issue with this mysterious Dr Valack. "Now, let's go into supper."

Seating was a logistical affair involving manners, rank and what was called slight, which was whether it was intended to insult someone. In a formal setting, the most highly ranked alpha would sit at the head of the table, omegas were sat flanked by trusted chaperones and conversation was usually had with the people to the immediate right or left unless addressed by the head of the table. In a family setting the alpha sat at the head, the mari facing them and the seats were a free for all which had been staked over years.

Insult could be added by placing someone next to someone to whom they had not been introduced and therefore could not speak to, or rank could be deliberately overlooked to place a lord next to people of much lower social standing knowing that they could not politely complain.

The art of seating was something that Derek's father called the greatest power struggle in the Empire. And that was before the conversation was taken into account.

Derek's mother, the Alpha in the marriage, said that there were battles fought over porcelain greater than any of those fought with cannon.

Derek considered that his parents were wiser than they knew.

Most alphas didn't pay any attention to these sorts of things, these were the provinces of omega and wives, these were things that they considered to have no meaning as long as they were given their due. Most alphas of Derek's rank would have been happily sat at the head of the table and served first and thought nothing of it. Derek had the impression that he would learn far more of what was happening sat in the centre of the table.

He was sat with Finstock on one side and young Mr Lahey on the other facing Lady Woodrow. On Finstock's other side was the Vidame Stilinski who was sat next to Peter. The vidama was facing her brother with Lord Argent next to Lord McCall and between Vidama Martin and Lady Woodrow was Vidama Argent, so she faced Dr Finstock. Young McCall was sat facing his father, with Lieutenant Parrish between him and young Mr Lahey, with Colonel Lahey facing his brother and Lady McCall sat watching over her son like a vengeful goddess.

It was certainly more complicated than Derek would have liked to be responsible for.

Lady McCall had made the decision to serve supper in the Russian fashion - or what the English considered to be the Russian fashion - where there was a period between courses for people to get up and walk around, allowing the servants to clear away the dirty plates, replacing them with clean dinnerware allowing everyone to see how wonderful and how rich the hosts were. It was more fashionable to serve the meal in the French fashion where all the dishes were delivered to the table at the same time. Serving the courses at different times gave the kitchens more opportunity but also meant that the dishes served had more room around the table- they were placed on a side table so that the diners could, if they wished, serve more. If all of the courses were served this meant that diners could choose which dishes that they wished to eat, and refuse those that they did not with none the wiser.

With a wide table, and no fire in the grate, the late summer heat had left the room pleasantly warm, heated only by oil lamps and the candelabra on the table, the dishes were placed on the table so that everyone could, in theory, serve themselves. This usually meant someone taking up the plates and serving the people around them, which Derek was grateful for because he was not sure he could reach across the table.

The kitchen had done wonders, serving up a plate of fricasseed chickens, an entire baked pike. There was a filet of mutton on a bed of stewed endives, and a matching plate of fried celery. A French onion consomme was paired with a _Salat Francais_. There was a fillet of pork roast sharing a platter with larded veal cutlets and crimped trout. Everything looked and smelled wonderful.

Dr Finstock made a point to serve Derek so he didn't have to reach across the table. "I hear we nearly had a fifteenth," Peter said once his plate was full because he knew perfectly well that gossip was often an excellent source of information.

"Dr Valack," Lady McCall said with a sneer, "our tenant," she speared a piece of pike on her fork, "a gentleman from Oxford where he is a professor." It was hard to tell if she was derisive of the man in question or his profession. "Rented out the gatehouse for six months to work on his opus."

"He's writing a book?" Peter asked her. He was guiding her to giving as much information as he could extract without seeming pushy or rude.

"If it were only that," Lord McCall said, "he is writing a true history of Queen Elizabeth, which he will tell anyone at any opportunity although he also maintains that the king has spies out for his blood."

Peter raised an eyebrow at that, chewing on a morsel. If the Prince Regent had a spy out looking for Dr Valack Peter would have heard of him so it was clearly just braggadocio.

"His book will be a great work of comedy," Stiles said, reaching across the table for his lemonade, "he has an idea that Regina Gloriana, the Omega Queen, was in fact not an omega but an alpha in disguise."

Peter's mouth fell open, "well," he said at last.

"But if she was an alpha then the entire succession crisis would not have happened," Derek protested.

"Oh, that's the least of it, you see the princess had a childhood companion who was a young alpha boy from a village near the castle where she grew up, the two of them fell sick and the boy died, this is all in the recorded history, but Valack believes that the princess died and rather than admit their failure to the king they pretended the boy was the princess because as Edward was the confirmed heir at the time."

"Was Edward even born at the time?" Peter asked.

"Oh, I have no idea but the idea being as Elizabeth was never meant to inherit the throne they could have her die later when it wasn't their fault."

"But then she inherited the throne," Peter continued.

"Yep, and to hide her gender she insisted on sleeping alone, would let no one attend to her in the privy and refused to marry."

"That's all nonsense," Finstock said, "I believed she had several bastards."

"Oh she did," Peter said, looking as baffled as Finstock was by the narrative. "The Earl of Southampton for one."

"Well, apparently Prinny is so horrified by the idea of this book coming out he has had to go into hiding to write it."

"Prinny is a Hanover king, he has no link to Elizabeth," Peter said, "he would not care if she was proved an imposter."

"Valack is an ass," Lydia drawled, "at first I thought that his interest in telling me about his book was simply excitement in regards to his topic, then I discovered it was more excitement for my bosom."

"Which is why, in addition to his exceptionally boring topic of conversation, and he has only the one, that he is not invited to the house whilst we have guests." Lady McCall, having finished her serving of pike reached across the table for the veal, "it was not just the young vidama's breasts he found most interesting, but it was only her that he made attempt to sequester without a chaperone."

"He told me," Lydia said in the same bored drawl whilst Allison made comment of how awful it was, "that I alone could save him from the terrible ennui of academia and that as his wife I would redeem him," She took a sip of her lemonade to create a dramatic pause, "and was so determined that I was clearly as besotted with him as he was with his manuscript that he would not take simple refusal or accusation of impropriety to leave."

"Had I been able I would have terminated his tenancy," Lord McCall said, "but he paid in full, I have banned him from the manor and sent word around the village that he has a roving eye."

"A doctor, marrying a vidama?" Peter asked, "why it is simply not done, can you imagine dear Vidama Martin as the housemistress of a dormitory of unruly young alphas," he rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, "why someone would would have to spend each night driving her from the library and the alphas would be left with _bouilles_ , but they would still all be madly in love with her. Perhaps they might attend to their studies to simply have excuse to see her in the university library."

Rather than take offence Lydia laughed warmly at the accusation that rather than being slatternly or ruined she would devote herself to knowledge. She seemed flattered that he had noticed that about her when she was so careful to hide it. "Oh well," Vidama Argent said, "you know us vesdames and our love of reading, we are as accomplished as we are to pretend that we are flattered by the attentions of alphas, and that, of course," he nodded, to agree with her gesture of "of course", "we do not know more than them."

"With this Dr Valack," her father said from the side, "I think it's fair to say that my hounds know more than him."

"But father," Allison said, "you are often telling us how clever your girls are," she looked a perfect image of innocent wisdom. "You told me they were the same bloodline as your dear _grandpere_ who lived in France."

"Yes, when he came here with fear of _La Terreur_ he brought with him his hounds and his wealth, we were lucky as a family that we only lost our lands, and with Father's clever marriage we have to an extent restored our family fortune." Argent took a bite of his veal cutlet, reacting with pleased surprise at how he enjoyed it, veal was a meat that it was very easy to overcook. "My father may lament the loss of our lands in Gevaudan but I cannot say that I do, the land was wild, it is the reason our family is so renowned for our hunting."

"I had not known," Dr Finstock said, "that you were French, my lord."

"I am not," Argent answered, "but my father has pretensions, he grew up hearing tales of what his own father had lost so to him France presents a paradise that is clearly imaginary."

Derek stored the information away. Argent might have claimed that he had no interest in France, but it was well known that he and his sister, Lady Woodrow, were devoted and obedient to their sire, Marquise d'Argent and if he wished to restore his family seat, although Gevaudan was a wild part of France barely worth the effort of reclaiming, the easiest way to do so would be to buy it from the French government. They would not accept coin from an emigre, especially one raised in England with whom they were at war, without a token of his absolute faithfulness - such as the seal that would allow them to change the codes to the English army.


	10. Chapter 10

Gossip was pouring around the table in conjunction to the wine. As Finstock had advised that Derek should not drink in case he needed laudanum, especially for bed, he was sharing an elderflower wine, which was not alcoholic, with the omega, which brought him back to early childhood. There was also a sugar syrup made from its berries which he had in a glass to accompany the red meats, but it was too tart for him and he switched it for more of the rosehip tea.

Lady Woodrow was eating like she had not seen fine food for some time, as was Lieutenant Parrish, in Parrish that made sense because he was a naval man and so this kind of cooking was rare for him. Young McCall and Mr Lahey were glaring daggers at each other and chewing in a mechanical manner which suggested that they didn't taste what they were eating. Colonel Lahey was looking up the table as if questioning where people were sat and if he should not be closer to the head. This querulous gaze fell most often upon Derek, but it wasn't clear if it was because he knew that Derek outranked him or because he didn't know Derek's rank and was wondering why he was placed higher than him.

Derek was suspecting that Lahey's interest in India was less to do with falling in love with it, which was a possibility, as it was with the capacity for social advantage which the Honorable East India could provide for a gentleman with their patronage.

This idea nearly soured Derek's stomach. The Honorable East India Company was a blight on the world, with no god but profit and no morals or scruples. They were the enemy of the king and it was known that they committed terrible deeds but were so wealthy and powerful that none dare ask against them.

Derek did not care if Colonel Lahey was stupid enough to sell his soul to them, but the idea that he might bring the brilliant omega with him was unthinkable because the Honorable East India had very distinct ideas of who was useful and who was property.

Then Derek remembered that that was simply conjecture, he might be associating Lahey with the Honorable East India because he didn't like him. He bit back the accusation. It could be that his determination to return was because he loved the place, Lieutenant Parrish was clearly in love with Nassau and was happy to talk about the place, at length. The way he spoke of the Caribbean it did sound like a paradise.

Peter was entertaining the two omegas with a story about their father involving an impromptu cricket match where Stiles' mother, had peeled off her mantua and played in the game in just her chemise and stays, and not only had she played, which was scandalous, but without her skirts she had managed over a hundred runs.

Peter was excellent at drawing out information because in response to asking if Lady McCall if she had done something so scandalous in her girlhood, if playing cricket could be said to be scandalous, Lady McCall revealed that although she had grown up in Bath her mother was Spanish and she had spent her summers in her grandfather's house running wild with the local children with no care of her rank.

Lord McCall patted his wife's hand fondly and explained that he had fallen in love with her like that when they had met in Spain where his family had interests in wool.

Derek tucked those nuggets of information away, if the McCall family had interests in Spain it would make sense that they might steal the seal in order to either feed it to the rebels who were haranguing both the British and French soldiers or the French in order to secure their own lands and wealth. Spanish wool and leather were a very fine source of wealth indeed.

Derek, as he leaned back into the chair clutching his elderflower wine in his hands decided to ruminate over the suspects. Vidame Stilinski and Vidama Martin, and Lieutenant Parrish were innocent, as was Dr Finstock, ruled out by process of elimination.

Lady Woodrow's husband was a known philanderer and gambler who reliably spent more than his estate provided him, she could benefit from selling the seal, perhaps earning enough to secure herself a living apart from her husband.

Colonel Lahey intended to marry an omega whose rank was higher than would be accepted in London society but also to take that omega to India where he might be associated with the Honorable East India Company. The seal might be able to buy him currency within the company for they had absolutely no morals and would benefit from manipulating the supply lines to serve their own interests. He looked set to inherit from his father but Lord Lahey was a drunkard and there was a persistent rumour that he had accrued debts that would see the estate sold upon his death to pay them off.

Mr Lahey was training as a solicitor but he also was attempting to court Vidama Argent, who appeared mostly amused by this. If Colonel Lahey was aiming high in attempting to marry a vidame then his brother was aiming at the gods in his hope. He was as likely to be allowed to marry a _tsarevna_ of Russia as he was to marry a vidama.

Vidama Argent was happy to manipulate both alphas in their interest for what it could gain her, she was a sweet girl but she had learned well at the feet of her aunt, who had, in her time, been known to be a manipulative seductress. He had not been in her company enough to know why she might steal the seal, but she would be more likely to trick the two alphas who wanted to court her to take it.

Lord Argent was known to be his father's agent in all things and he sought to restore his land in France. Vicomte D'Argent, the family patriarch, might have manipulated his granddaughter into acting in order to promote their interests in France. If she had been raised as French the idea of being presented to the emperor might appeal to her. There she would be out of the reputation of both her aunt, whom society looked on with a polite pity and her mother who terrified them even if they would never admit it.

Young Lord McCall was a fool who was determined to impress the young vidama but as she was, to Derek's knowledge, at least the fourth love of his life, it was simply a matter of his mother introducing him to a more suitable girl, but that sort of serial infatuation would be expensive in gifts and he might take the seal in order to supplement his allowance, he would be the one that he would sell it most cheaply in order to buy trinkets for the girl. He probably had lifted the watch and not the seal unaware of its value.

The unexpected addition of the self-styled seditious scholar, it was unsure if he knew of the seal, or if he had even been in the house, but it was impossible to rule it out just in case.

That meant that the most obvious suspects were the McCalls who would directly benefit in both power and wealth from acquiring the seal, and Peter clearly suspected them in order to manipulate the throwing of this party. This was one of several that he had arranged as he ruled out people. Had no one taken the seal then he would have gone to the next one, or the next one until it was taken.

So one of the people at the table had taken it, and were now eating and drinking without a care in the world as if they were not a thief and possibly a traitor.

It was a possibility someone had taken the chain and watch and did not know about the seal. Peter was known to be ostentatious in his wealth and so if he was wearing a watch it should be expensive.

At the moment, with the information that he had the most obvious thief was one of the Argents, either the Vidama or her father, but Lady Woodrow might do it either to sell the watch or the seal for liquid funds, or to buy favour from her father which would see her divorced and available to the French court.

He had a lot to think on. He nodded as the servant asked if he wanted to remove his plate, allowing her to take it. Vidame Stilinski was busy wiping up the gravy with a roll of bread even as the servant took the plate from him.

"I do not know how you eat so much," his sister said fondly, "if I ate as much as you I would have to switch out my staymaker for a cooper." Vidame Stilinski answered by putting even more bread into his mouth. He clearly enjoyed food and wasn't overly interested in the formal manners of eating. Most vidame, Derek's sisters included, barely ate in situations like this and then gorged themselves when returned to the nursery. It was well known that Omega felt the cold and ate like birds.

If Vidame Stilinski ate like a bird then that bird was a pelican.

"I always take his appetite as a compliment to my staffing," Lady McCall said, laying her napkin on the table in preparation for leaving, "I know that whatever is served he will clear his plate and want more and if that is not a compliment on the skills of my chef I do not know what might be considered so. He eats more than my son." She actually sounded fond of it, "I had thought at first his father was being facetious when he offered me a small allowance for housing the two of them for the summer, I know now that it was to help pay for his appetite."

"I am a growing omega," Stiles protested, "I might gain several more inches."

"I doubt they will be in height," Vidama Argent said, and although the tone was fond there was a vicious undercurrent to it.

Vidama Stilinski seemed blithely unaware of it, "perhaps it is because I only wear reed stays and not baleen," he said, "it does not press so on my digestion."

"There are two courses left," Lord McCall said, "there is no shame in not pacing yourself, perhaps leave some space for dessert."

"I intend to," Vidame Stilinski said with a beaming smile, "I am told it is Damson Tart and a chantilly basket for dessert, with muffing puddings with dried cherries inside, how could I not want to save space."

Derek made a mental note, if Colonel Lahey truly intended to offer for Vidame Stilinski, and the rumour came true, despite the impropriety of it, he might need to sell the seal just to feed him.

"I personally like to see a young man with a healthy appetite," Finstock said, "don't you think, Silverdale?" Derek suspected that Finstock was not so simple as to include Derek just to be polite, "all that food converts to energy, don't you know, how is a person expected to do anything if they don't eat, it's why you see such lassitude in the poorer classes, eating slop and no guarantee when the next bowl is coming, so when food is served it's best to eat it all, I say, besides, there is nothing attractive in a person so thin you can count their bones," he paused, "unless you're using them as a model in an anatomy class and in those cases they've starved to death."

Although Derek suspected that there was a point to this he had no idea what it was.

"I do not understand this late come fashion for omegas who are stick thin, do you know what happens with mothers who are skin and bone, skinny babies, and do you know what skinny babies do," he paused for dramatic effect, "die." Not content as some orators were to leave it there he continued, "babies should be so plump you will want to stuff them in the oven and roast them, that was where Dr Swift was wrong in his modest proposal, having the poor eat their own babies achieves nothing - they're too damn skinny."

"He was being satirical, Dr Finstock," Vidama Argent said.

"Was he?" Finstock continued, "it's well known that predators faced with no other food source in a hard winter will eat their own young."

"I am aware that the poor are not like us, Dr Finstock, but to compare them to wild beasts is unfair." Vidama Argent was not afraid to share her opinions.

"And why are they not like us, Vidama?" Finstock challenged, "in the words of Shakespeare Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? We can easily change that to Hath not a poor person eyes, hands, organs etcetera, etcetera, on and on." This was accompanied by a handwaving gesture.

"That is not what I meant," she answered, a little chastened.

"In our family's ancestral lands," Lord Argent said in his quiet way, "there was a beast so terrible that it preyed on people for four years, over a hundred people were killed and eaten as if they were rabbits, the creature, which was slain only by the grace of God, cared not if its victims were poor or rich, so I believe our family history will prove that yes, the poor have the same organs, the same eyes, the same hands, even if it is not so eloquently said as Mr Shakespeare."

Derek was unsure if Argent was attending to his daughter's defence or spoke of the beast, a tale that Derek had heard before, was something that he was unable to hunt and that was a lifelong disappointment to him.

"That is Grandpere's favourite tale," Vidama Argent said, "he believes that it was the king's failure to act that eventually led to La Terreur, that is why our family was so quick to become emigre."

"I know this story," Vidama Stilinski said with a macabre fascination that clearly his sister despaired of, "I heard that it might have been a man who had trained a creature brought from Africa and dressed in armour to create fear and use that fear to overthrow the king."

"You read the most scandalous novels," Vidama Martin said, "and not everything that you read is true, it is likely we will never know what happened then," she patted his hand, "come, brother, let us play vingt-et-un, this conversation has grown dark indeed, Allison, come- join us."

"But Lydia," Vidama Argent said with a mock whine, "you always win."

"I would love to play Vingt-et-un," Peter said intervening suddenly, "what about you, Silverdale?" He carefully used his title and not his name that it wasn't clear how they knew each other. Some of those present knew, others did not, "playing cards with some of the loveliest omega in England, does it not sound delightful?" The way he said it Derek was left to wonder if he was drunk.


	11. Chapter 11

With Peter and Vidama Martin dominating the card table with Lady Woodrow and Vidama Argent to play their game Derek sat with Vidame Stilinski, Stiles, on the club fender in front of the fire. Careless of who might see instead of sitting side saddle, as might be appropriate for an omega of good breeding, he sat astride so he could better appraise the cards. With just the two of them, Stiles had decided that they would play Piquet, which was a game played over five rounds and would happily keep them occupied for the hour between courses. "I love sitting on the club fender," Stiles said, "it means there is nothing between me and the fire, and even this late in the summer I feel the cold fiercely, but Lydia would have my head if I paired a shawl with this jacket."

"Your sister seems very intent on making sure that you are proper," Derek said, unlike Stiles, he could not sit astride because he couldn't lift his leg high enough to step over the bench.

"Lydia?" Stiles asked with some surprise, "she wishes the best for me," he explained, "I am not good with societal expectations, I'm too loud and thoughts fall in and out of my head like stones in a well and I don't really care for fashion," he pulled a face looking at his cards, "and my dowry isn't great, Lydia inherited hers from her father but mine is only two hundred pounds a year, if Lydia did not take the care for me I would end up married to a sheep farmer."

"Is that necessarily a bad thing?" Derek asked, "it sounds much like society is as ill-suited for you as you are for it."

"You are kind to say so, sir, but it does not matter, for Colonel Lahey intends to offer for me and I do believe my father will agree." Derek could not say that Stiles was eager to tell him that. Derek may have lacked the understanding of humanity that his uncle benefitted from but he was sure that Stiles did not sound pleased by it.

"And you are out?" Derek asked because he couldn't remember if he had been told or not.

"My presentation is in January," he answered, "Lydia is already planning our wardrobes, we are to share a presentation, my father is titled and her mother is rich, it was a marriage to please everyone, so Lydia will get presented to the queen and I shall have a first-rate presentation ball."

"You don't sound delighted by it," Derek said, "every omega I have known was eager for their presentation that they might escape the strictures of the nursery."

"It is all of a piece," Stiles said with a gesture, "besides, Colonel Lahey is to offer for me so it doesn't matter if I have a decent presentation or not, if I am to be presented to the alphas of the ton that one might marry me why bother when I might already be engaged."

"Does that not strike you as odd?" Derek suspected that Stiles wanted to talk about this with someone, even a strange man who grunted as much as he talked and couldn't lift his leg over a club fender when they were playing cards.

"Do you think that Colonel Lahey stole the watch?" Stiles claimed to be flitterwitted but he was brilliant, Derek could see, his mind making leaps that Derek was dazzled by. Derek had not even considered the watch, he was talking about Colonel Lahey because Colonel Lahey was glaring at them over a glass of wine where he was sat with Lord Argent and Lord McCall and his moustache seemed to be twitching with annoyance that Derek was playing cards with Stiles.

"I haven't ruled him out yet," Derek admitted, "he had an opportunity but so did many others at the table."

"Does he have a motive?" Stiles asked.

"That's what I am trying to understand," Derek told him, playing his cards, "you know him better than I, I had not met him before this afternoon, and I cannot be said to have been in good humour."

"You were as surly as a pit snake that someone had stood on," Stiles said with a bright and brilliant peal of laughter.

"If someone had stood on the snake then it had every reason to be surly," Derek said with mock affront but he liked talking with Stiles, when he experienced something he did so with his whole body, his laughter was invigorating and lovely, his skin flushing peach and his eyes crinkling with joy. "Of course, Colonel Lahey is now attempting to redefine the surliness of that pit snake, he clearly does not care that we are talking."

"He has a lifetime with me to look forward to," Stiles said, "he cannot begrudge me a game of cards with someone, it will make for a long marriage if he does."

"Perhaps he will be less covetous when you both return to India," Derek said it believing that Stiles knew of Lahey's intention but the way he closed himself off told Derek more than words could that he had not.

"India?" he muttered to himself, "it is of no matter," he qualified and laid down his cards winning the hand, "let us find the thief first."

"You must forgive my presumption," Derek began, sure that Stiles would not, "but you do not seem best pleased with the idea that Colonel Lahey intends to offer for you."

Stiles sighed, and then picked up the cards to shuffle them, cutting the pack over and over in his slim hands. He had lovely hands, Derek noticed, with long slim fingers that spoke of industry and use. "I am not," he started, "I'm an omega, sir," he said and the politesse was back in his voice, "I will not inherit my father's knighthood, nor my mother's reputation in society as a great wit and beauty. I am also a male omega and many people consider us as skinny girls without tits, and that does not aid in my purpose in society which is to marry well and produce lots of good alpha babies." Derek let him talk, he got the impression that Stiles had needed to say it to someone, anyone, for some time. "I have my father's standing to think of and I say everything that pops into my head even with a tincture to help me focus my thoughts, and Lydia is lovely and rich and I cannot help but be considered with her, even though we are nothing alike."

"Is it a bad thing to be so different?"

"Lydia can make an excellent match, she could marry perhaps as high as a count or an earl, she is beautiful and accomplished and yet I am dragging her down because I am clumsy and too loud and flitterwitted."

"I think you judge yourself too harshly, vidame," Derek said and he truly meant it.

"Colonel Lahey has been kind, he called on my father last January with another gentleman over a matter of business and he saw me, he asked permission that we might, properly chaperoned, be allowed to talk. He has been nothing but proper and kind." Stiles still did not sound happy about the arrangement. "He has many good prospects and I am kind of caught, if he offers for me when half of London knows that he will and I tell my father to refuse him, even if he intends to take me to India after marriage, I can be ruined, and if I am ruined then I can ruin Lydia and that is not fair on either of us. She is everything that society wants, the proprietresses of Almacks have already confirmed that she is to have vouchers."

"But," Derek offered.

"We are not much alike, Colonel Lahey and I, he is very prim and proper and stiff, he hands on formality and I forget to use it, I talk to strangers like they are old friends and insert myself in investigations that are inappropriate for an omega to even be aware of, and..."

"And perhaps you just need to say these things."

Stiles' smile was shy and honest, his eyes were still a little sad. Derek wished he were a greater student of human nature that he could understand the complex spread of emotions he was seeing on the vidame. "Perhaps I do, it is strange, sir, how easy you are to speak to."

"It is because I care not a whit for society and am afforded the luxury of it not being an issue that I do not," Derek said this with the sort of affected air that he had seen Peter use when he was offended and wanted to seem the injured fop.

"Then you, sir, are blessed in ways that many are not," Stiles said understanding the roles that they were playing and enjoying the game.

"I am so blessed that there are those who mistake me for the Pope."

Again Stiles' brilliant peal of laughter rang out and Derek liked seeing him laugh like that. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," Stiles said through his smile.

"And what sins is it you must confess, my child?" Derek asked him leaning forward in a gesture that wasn't quite a leer.

Across the room, Colonel Lahey's moustache bristled more like an angered pet with its hackles raised to their highest. "We have angered George," Stiles said in a confession, "watch him go, I am sure that Lady Melissa will have to serve him almond biscuits just to reassure his temper."

"George?" Derek asked.

"I am being too forward again," Stiles said, "and forgetting that not everyone knows, but Lydia and I, well, we have been sort of fascinated by Colonel Lahey's moustache, Lydia thinks it's a facial parasite that he contracted in India and as such we named it," this time it was Derek's turn to laugh out loud, "we called it George, after Lydia's uncle who no one likes." Derek couldn't help but chuckle. "He shows up unannounced for dinner and then just complains about everyone's life choices whilst wearing a vest that is loud enough to drown out his complaints."

Derek was enjoying talking to Stiles and he felt that he should say so, but he wasn't sure if he would be taking a liberty in doing it. Stiles was a fascinating omega, unlike most of those that Derek had met he had no real interest in the marriage mart because he seemed crippled by self-doubt, and it did not help that he venerated his sister so highly. She was protective of him also and sometimes the decisions she made were not as kind to him as perhaps she intended.

In many ways Colonel Lahey was a good match for Stiles, he had an inheritance from a wastrel father who would sooner or later drink himself to death. He had a good reputation as a soldier and he had business dealings with the Honorable East India which might guarantee him an income for life, even if it was in India. Vidama Martin was right in promoting the marriage for those reasons.

There was also the aspect that if Stiles married, or at least was engaged quickly, it reflected well upon her as well.

But she was also his sister and it was clear to anyone that they were not a good match, Stiles would be miserable in India let alone in a marriage with a man as stiff and formal as Lahey. Lahey also lacked the social capital to approach an omega openly and so had plucked the fruit before it was ripe. It was likely he had chosen Stiles from De Witt's peerage and approached his father to secure the boy.

And the only way that Stiles could escape the net that Lahey had put in place, a regimented net that was in many ways just on the edge of what was acceptable, was to be offered for by someone of higher rank so that Stiles could not be questioned for turning him down, or be accused of having pretensions.

"As I don't really care for politesse when in private company," Derek said leaning forward, "I would not mind if you called me Derek instead of sir, I immediately assume that Sir refers to one of those people who taught me."

Stiles beamed at him. "I should not do this, but just between us, I do not mind if you call me Stiles, although I must ask if there are others present that you observe the niceties. I do not know which would be worse for my reputation, refusing Colonel Lahey or him not offering at all when all of London seems to know that that is his intent."

"Well met, Stiles, I'm Derek," he didn't offer his hand to be shaken but he did consider it, instead he took the spread of cards from Stiles, with their fingers touching. "Now, who do you think took the watch?"


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles considered his answer for long moments before he spoke. "I feel like I am missing some information," he said, "for the only thing I can be sure of, other than that the watch was taken, was that it was almost certainly not for its monetary value," he chewed on his lip, "or they would have taken the guineas. The guineas would have been much easier to explain," He laid out his cards, "but it might help if I talked it through, sometimes I know the answer and do not know that I know it." 

Derek had to agree for worded as it was it sounded confusing but it did make sense when he considered it, and he, himself, had done the same.

"The people that I know didn't take the watch are best removed, so I know it wasn't Peter, it was his watch," Derek noticed the casual intimacy in regards to Peter when Stiles' guard was lowered. He probably was not even aware that he was doing it. "Lydia was already down the stairs with Parrish when I went up wearing the gravy, I passed Peter's man, Theo, on the back stairs. He was going down as I was going up, so Peter must have just finished his toilet then. So anyone who came downstairs between then and us noticing the watch was missing is a suspect." Stiles was managing this investigation, and to Derek's dismay, beating him at cards so soundly Derek suspected that he might be cheating. "So that leaves the Argents, Lord Argent would only lift the watch if it would aid him in hunting, perhaps if he had forgotten his own repeater," he referred to the alarm, "but he would ask Peter or have mentioned it to him on descending the stairs. Lord Argent is the sort of good man whose goodness often gets in his own way."

Derek complimented him on addressing that so adroitly.

"Lady Woodrow is broke," he didn't bother with the niceties, "and her cuckold's horns get in the way of her very fashionable hats," that description, although accurate was not as pleasant. In fact his description would be the sort that saw him forced to apologise and wash his mouth out with soap and water. "She would have taken the guineas as well as the watch. Her husband spends every penny he earns on his doxy, some nymph from the opera house gossip tells us. She might take the watch to pay someone to take care of him, he has no intention of marrying the chit as far as I know, nor she to be married. It is far more profitable to be his mistress. If she did arrange it then leaving Peter's watch at the scene would make the investigation look at him."

Derek had not considered that and said so.

"Allison is as vicious an omega as any of us," he looked at the cards that Derek had laid down in front of them and screwed his face up in concentration. "And judging her like that, for she has no intention to marry either of her suitors but she has had her first season and was not snapped up, her family weighs on her like a stain, she might have taken the watch to catch Peter. He is young, titled and rich, if she screams in the night that someone misused her and presents the watch as evidence that he was present, Lord Argent's honour would force him to secure the marriage whether he willed it or not. That is something she is capable of planning, she might seem all sweetness and light but she is an omega and we're like feral dogs when we're alone." He brought his thumb up to his mouth, chewing roughly on the skin there that had turned hard from repeated misuse.

"That might also cover Lady Woodrow," he said as Derek reached out to tease the offending digit from his clever teeth. It was a very intimate gesture and he had not realised that he had done it until he heard Colonel Lahey make a snort and call for some Madeira, and no more of this watery slop. Derek might not have noticed himself doing it, and Stiles certainly did not- caught in thought as he was, but Colonel Lahey had and he did not care for it at all. 

"Lady Woodrow could use it in court, if she claimed that Peter was her lover then she might be able to force Lord Woodrow to divorce, or just as leverage in whatever it is that exists between them."

Derek had to admit it and said so out loud, Stiles was brilliant. He had never seen such brilliance in another person and it deserved praise. The praise had the strange effect of making Stiles close in one himself like a flower. It was as if the compliments bounced off him and put him on the defensive. It made Derek want to hurt whoever it was that had made him like that. It was something that Colonel Lahey would abuse without meaning to, for he was arrogant in his way, without intending malice, but he saw omega as a prize to be won and not as individuals with their own strengths and weakness. An omega would see him raised in the circles he aimed for. It did not matter to him that it would destroy Stiles. Derek was reassured in his decision to see the two of them parted.

"Dr Finstock was with you, so I can rule him out, thank the Lord, for there is a mind I do not want to even consider trying to understand, the only reason I can think that he might take it is to blackmail Peter into funding a battledore tournament, and there would be shouting involved," he waved his hand, "and he'd ask first." For all that Stiles said that thoughts fell into and out of his head like stones in a well, he was remarkably focussed on both the game, where Derek was now absolutely sure that he was cheating and the investigation.

"Dr Valack was told to stay away from the house but if we consider him he might take the watch in order to get Peter to finance his opus if he presents the watch to Peter he has an excuse to talk to him."

Derek called over the waiter with a polite flick of his hand and requested more of the rosehip tea with honey, Stiles demurred from taking another drink, his tongue flickering out to lick his lips.

"Lord McCall would take the watch to force Peter, perhaps in parliament, if he returns the watch claiming, like Valack might, that it was dropped Peter would think of him more favourably, he doesn't lack for blunt, I cannot think that it might be him, he doesn't seem the type but my gut is not reason enough to dismiss him. I know that Scott is arguing with his father, not just over Allison. Scott thinks himself very grown up and his father disagrees, Lady McCall that when the season starts to wind down that Scott should be sent on Tour in order to broaden his opinions to the point where he is not, and I quote, talking out of his ass."

Stiles looked across to the window where the storm was continuing unabated, the rain was lashing against the windows hard enough it looked like they were underwater.

"Lady McCall told me," Derek said, "that she was tricked into inviting you and Lydia here for the summer by Scott alluding that the vidama he wished to court was Lydia."

Stiles made a gesture with his head, "that would make sense, she knew that exposure to the object of his infatuation would end the romance. Scott's more in love with the idea of being in love than the actual experience of it. I blame too many gothic novels myself." It seemed that he had given himself an idea for he opened his mouth for a moment before he spoke. "No, Scott's not that conniving," he started, "no, he is," he added, "he might take the watch to gain Peter's favour over his father, sort of as a sponsor for the marriage. Peter and Lord Argent are good friends, if Peter thinks well of Scott, say for finding his missing watch before the party ends, then Peter would speak positively of him to Argent if Scott asks permission to court Allison."

"Peter would not do that," Derek said, "he would let him fail on his own merits."

"I know that," Stiles stressed the pronoun, "but it's the sort of arrogant gesture I expect from Scott's conniving. He can be very selfish and self-deluded when it comes to the object of his affection, Allison is not the first, nor shall she be the last. His eyes flit faster than my thoughts, and the more the girl is uninterested the more he pursues them." He realised what he said, "I do not think that he would ever hurt them, or touch them when it was unwanted, or even ruin them so they would be forced into marriage, he is more likely to stand outside their window singing at them whilst tunelessly strumming at a gittern and dodging the boots thrown at him by the object of the bad songs he is writing for her."

"It sounds," Derek told him, "that more than a champion he needs a friend who can talk him out of that sort of behaviour."

Stiles sighed, "I have tried, oh lord, have I tried, mind you I have also been responsible for several scrapes over the years, he is not entirely to blame for any and all mischief in our long years of acquaintanceship, it's at least evenly split down the middle, however since he left university he has been obsessed with the idea of finding a proper wife. If his mother succeeds and sends him on tour then he will come back with a foreign bride, ideally Spanish so she will fit in with his mother."

"I had not known Lady McCall was Spanish," Derek said, although he had known.

"Her grandfather was a don, and her father after him, but there was schism, she doesn't talk about it, and she grew up in Bath, I doubt she considers herself Spanish any more, but I do know that Lord McCall chose her for that reason, he liked her dark beauty, but being of Spanish stock himself he has a darker view of beauty, no that's not what I meant to say," he corrected himself, the corner of his thumb going back to his mouth, "I mean his sisters and mother were dark in their colouring so it makes sense that he would find such lovelier than the more pale version of beauty feted in London. She was down so quickly after I went up, apparently, as if had she taken the back stairs and not the front then we would have passed each other as far as I can tell. I cannot believe she would take the watch because if she wanted something from Peter she would simply ask him, I don't think it coincidence that he calls her his dear Melissa," his eyes flicked to the fire as he chewed more fiercely, again Derek reached out to tug the thumb from his mouth and again across the room Colonel Lahey made a sound like an angered bull loud enough that Derek could hear it across the parlour.

"Is that everyone?" he asked.

"Not quite," Derek answered, "there are still the Mssrs Lahey."

"Isaac could do with the money," Stiles said offhand, "he might have pocketed the guineas, university doesn't pay for itself and his father," he rolled his eyes and then leaned in the position of someone who had some scandalous gossip to share that they did not want to be accused of having been the source of, "I heard this before I left London, so it is several months out of date, and I did not hear it from Colonel Lahey, but by a mutual friend who told it to Natalie and I could overhear, but Sir Henry Lahey, Baronet Adengale, is not only violent to his sons, but he has a taste for spirits and has not been seen in society because he is in the advanced stages of syphilis, he gambled away the family fortune and is in Bedlam where he is expected to die."

Derek was aghast at the revelation, "And your father still intends to accept Colonel Lahey if he offers for you?"

"Colonel Lahey has a fine pension, and combined with my two hundred a year it's a fine, if small, living, and there is no evidence that Colonel Lahey shares his father's temperament, in fact, the opposite. I am not so highly ranked in the firmament of stars that it would ruin me if it came out," he shrugged it off, "and Camden," he said the name somewhat sadly, "is a good man with a fine reputation, he has risen to Colonel despite his father's shortcomings, the only question that I have is where he found the money to buy out his colours, for he has seen his brother through university that he might become a solicitor and have a fine living of his own. Is that not to his credit?"

"Stiles," Derek said, "if you do not wish this marriage tell me and I shall do what I can to dissuade him."

"It is a good match," Stiles said, "Allison would carve out my eyes to marry so well."

"Then let her have him," Derek took Stiles' hand in his own. Across the room, angered by the entire scene Colonel Lahey came to his feet and then, by some act of Providence, there was a loud bang, one of the paned windows erupted inwards and all the ladies screamed, coming to their feet with their skirts hoisted high enough to display their clocks and moved to the doors. Lieutenant Parrish and Colonel Lahey moved towards the window, quickly followed by Lords McCall, Argent and Peter Hale, Derek, stumbling to his feet, put his hand to the small of Stiles' back to guide him to safety, which let his cane fall to the floor in front of the club fender.


	13. Chapter 13

 The rain was lashing against the windows with the force of the wind, rattling them in their glass, as everyone moved into the hall away from whatever it was that had crashed through the window, and so only Peter noticed that Lieutenant Parrish did not accompany them, but very little slipped past him. Derek had been unaware that the sudden burst of movement, which he considered the usual alpha instinct around a threatened omega, who had sat close enough that his soft perfume with its hints of lilac was able to tickle his nose, that he moved so quickly and with such determination, which he immediately regretted as soon as he reached the stairs and almost collapsed into the chair beside them with Finstock, who had been watching him and the young vidame through the affair moved across towards them.

He was seriously considering sending the doctor for the laudanum and taking to his bed, but then Stiles brought him a cup of water and a cloth with which to wipe his brow. He had not known that pain could cause excessive sweats and was not happy to learn it.

Vesdames Argent and Martin seemed much more upset by the crash than Derek had thought that they would be, for as fierce as they appeared it did seem that they were still, at heart, young girls, and Lady Woodrow had gathered them into the corner by the entrance way fireplace that she might soothe them.

Lord Argent started arguing with Lord McCall about going outside to see what malefactor was responsible for the crash, Lord agent wanted to go out into the storm and Lord McCall counselled patience and vigilance because there were vesdames present.

Young McCall was only prevented by rushing out to impress by the fact that the servant whom he had called to fetch his coat had ignored him, and Lahey looked like he might use those long legs of his to run up the stairs to fetch his own greatcoat, not because he was brave but because he wanted to impress. Colonel Lahey was commanding the servants, who were ignoring him in the confusion, for they had joined them in the foyer to find out the source of the crash, as if he was back in India.

Derek was just glad that there was a chair there, even if it was just for decoration.

Just as it looked like it might calm there was a most terrible rapping on the door, as if the hundred hands of a hundred demons beat upon it at once, with each beat distinct through the old wood. One of the two vesdamas made a squeak which meant that instead of wanting to face the very forces of hell the two young alphas immediately wanted to find something with which to soothe the object of their affections and upon seeing the butler, who in the process of decanting wine had lifted both bottle and decanter, was stood trying, as much as everyone else, to discern what was happening which caused the two to start squabbling, which only raised the tensions in the foyer higher.

The whole thing only took a few minutes, before, when, although the culprit would later deny it, Lady Woodrow screamed, the door slammed open and revealed, highlighted by a flash of lightning that no one had noticed before. It looked like a beast with a stump where a head should be and it made a groan before collapsing to its knees on the tiled floor, with rain and blood streaming from its head.

'Dr Valack,' Lady McCall said and she seemed angrier than horrified, as if he had used the storm for the sole purpose of attending the party uninvited.

'My Lady,' the academic managed as he put his hands on the tiles, as if reassured that there was a floor. He wore a tattered leather greatcoat that looked as if it had seen many years of hard service, 'the road to town, it's washed out, the storm, my lady,' he seemed to be babbling, 'it's the devil himself come to take me.' Clearly, the man was raving, and it was nonsense he spoke, but outside the wind was lashing the oaks as easily as willow branches and the sky was lit by lightning as fist-sized splats of rain bounced off the ground.

'Nonsense, man,' Finstock said moving to him with his handkerchief held out to mop up the blood and inspect the cut on his brow, 'it's just a storm.'

'My lady, save me,' Valack said, trying his hardest to clutch the floor as Finstock, with no patience for his patient, started to pat at his head and the rather nasty wound there.

'Stones, my lady,' with some wit restored to him, the servants had fetched him brandy in an earthenware cup pulled from an apron which Finstock had requisitioned to dip the kerchief into, but the smell seemed to revive him some, and he was staring direct at Vidama Martin, 'stones are falling from the very sky, it is the end times.' His words were supported, it seemed by a loud crack of thunder outside the open door.

'Bloody academics,' Finstock muttered, 'be best getting him into a bed, my lady,' he told Lady McCall, 'he might be an idiot with no sense left in his head, for all that the sky tried to knock it into him, but it is a nasty gash and witless as he is he might vomit or do something unwanted.' He flicked his eyes to the two vidama huddled by Lady Woodrow.

As the servants tried to lead Valack away, accompanied by Dr Finstock, to somewhere where he could recuperate without interfereing more, Lieutenant Parrish made his re-entry, having completely missed the entire furore. 'My lord,' he said addressing Lord McCall, 'I hope you don't mind that I took the initiative, but I fixed that broken window, used that old firescreen, it'll do until the storm's done.'

After the drama Parrish's calm was even more unsettling than Valack's histrionics and Lord McCall just blinked at him. 'Hailstones,' Parrish said, 'the size of quails eggs, one caught the window, bit unfortunate but easy mended in the meantime, you don't mind, do you?' he suddenly realised he might have massively overstepped, 'I'm just so used to these things being dealt with there and then.'

'It was a hailstone?' Peter pressed, loud enough that everyone could hear, 'just a hailstone?'

'A huge one, yes,' Parrish qualified, 'but nothing to be wary of, and the window is mended, we can go back in if you like.'

Lady McCall had decided that that was reason enough to take control, even if her nerves were frayed and there was a chance that the party was quite ruined even if there was still two courses to serve. 'Well, we can't stay here,' she said snapping her hands into her skirt, 'a good stiff brandy all around I think, Stiles, be a dear and run to the kitchen and have them heat up some brandy to steady our nerves, and tell them that the servants can have a little nip too, I think we all need it in weather like this.' With her place in the household restored she marched into the sitting room where they had all been previously gathered when the window had broken.

Derek, stiff and sore and having forgotten his cane in the drama stayed where he was on the chair beside the staircase until he could gather enough strength to cope with the short walk to the other room's club fender. His surprise chivalric action in guiding Stiles from the sitting room he had possibly done himself more damage to his poor bruised body. If the servants brought him a nip of brandy he might be able to manage it.

Parrish had, in his quick fix as he had called it, unscrewed the screen from the stand and wedged it into the place between the mullions covering the hole, and gathered up all the glass into his kerchief. He had done a fair job even though it would have meant climbing up onto the stone windowsill and stretching to force the screen into place. With the door open Derek could hear them chatter and praise his quick thinking whilst Parrish dismissed it as a sailor's habit, as he pointed out a ship with a hole in it for the weather to come in was a ship that sank. They could mend it properly when the storm ended but for now it was weather tight.

Sat in the foyer Derek took a moment to appreciate the quiet, the hum of voices in the other room and the brightly coloured cut flowers from Lady McCall's garden, late summer blooms like torch lilies and blowsy purple apothecary roses and sprays of elderflowers which filled the room with a pleasant scent, combined with the blast of petrichor and the sweetness of the wisteria oils released by the rain it was a pleasant place to sit.

He attempted some movements to try and loosen his back but just hissed and had to rearrange himself to give his back more support. He wondered if Peter would be truly disappointed if he did crawl up the back stairs into a bath, the promised massage and then bed. He hurt and the urge to go to the stables and punch Bastard were only prevented by the fact that he didn't think he could get up.

Stiles clambered down the stairs. It was a marvel to behold for he seemed a clatter of limbs that did not behave as limbs ought but yet he did not throw himself to the floor in a pile of broken bones as any who attempted the same maneuvre clearly wood. 'Why are you sat here?' he asked, noticing Derek.

'I dropped my cane,' Derek said, 'and now i cannot rise to stand and go back in, I have stiffened and when I try the pain is blinding. I was going to wait for one of the footmen to help me.' He saw no reason to lie when the truth was so plain. Even Young McCall would have seen that he needed help.

'If I help you to your feet,' Stiles said, looking around, 'do you think you can get in on your own?' He looked furtive and rather scared that he might be punished from the way his eyes flitted about. 'If I get your cane, well,' he looked around again, 'Colonel Lahey,' he left it open.

'I understand,' Derek told him, for he did. Stiles was an unmarried omega, he was young and unblemished and this had the power to ruin him entire, if he left the room after entering to meet alone with Derek, even if it was only to help him with his cane, then he would be ruined and branded, his entire marriage prospects would be ruined. It would not only be Colonel Lahey who would refuse to marry him, and being Stiles' sister Lydia also would be ruined by association.

Stiles took a deep breath and slipped his arm under Derek's armpit to help him to his feet, and just as they managed to come to standing steps could be heard approaching the stairs above. Where they were stood they could not be seen, but it was clear that by the time that the person descended that they would be in clear view, with only one opportunity to leave them hidden. Behind the chair was a small cleaning closet and Stiles with panic opened the hidden door and dragged Derek inside. 'We can't,' Stiles said pushing Derek against the buckets and mops and pulling the door shut behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

The cleaning closet was not large. It was barely big enough for the two of them to stand, with no room for movement, and the air thick with the smells of treacle and beer and other cleaning products. There was a mop pressing against Derek's shoulder and with the tight confines Stiles had to slot his thighs between Derek's and they were kissing close. It would take nothing more than a thought for their mouths to meet.

Outside the closet Derek could hear Finstock start up a conversation with someone else but until the other spoke Derek could not be certain who that it was.

This close, with the stale, sour air, Derek couldn't help but notice the lilac scent that Stiles wore, and a hint of the food that he had eaten, even the sharp elderflower wine on his breath. They were face to face and Derek could feel the heat of his body. Stiles had his face tilted up slightly and even in the poor light Derek could see the tip of his tongue dart out to wet his lips. 'There's a shelf behind me,' Stiles whispered, 'if we turn around you can take some of the weight off your leg.'

This caused some shuffling, with their legs intertwined, Stiles' hands on his shoulders and Derek's on the omega's waist as if they were dancing. They were so close that it caused Stiles' thigh to rub against the underside of his cock, although it was absolutely unintentional and Stiles seemed to blush and apologised in a whisper.

The shelf was barely more than a ledge and it allowed Derek to, as Stiles had said, take off some of the weight, but even with it sticking into the crease between his thighs, he didn't take his hands from Stiles' waist. The satin of his vest was slick under his palms, and under it he could feel the curve of the omega's hips and for one brief moment he had, entirely without intent, cupped one peachy buttock.

Stiles was aware of the proximity and had, to allow a better fit, raised his arms so that they rested either side of Derek's head, and to any observer they would have looked like lovers, crept away for a tryst, and a clinch in a private corner.

'I haven't seen him,' Finstock told whoever it was that he was talking, 'I imagine he's gone to the necessary, in his condition,' that made it clear that Finstock was talking about Derek himself, 'it's a long and complicated process, limbs everywhere, and probably using the wall to drag himself to standing, then there's the pulling up his pants, and it's hard to button your fall, with one hand holding you up, and I noticed when we all rushed out of the sitting room that he had left his cane behind. Is there a reason you're looking for him?'

'I have also noticed the absence of the vidame,' it was clear that the other person was Colonel Lahey and Stiles' sweet breath faltered a little hearing the voice.

'The vidame,' Finstock said, 'is running an errand for me, Lady McCall asked him to bring some brandy to the wild academic that came in under cover of night, and I sent him to the kitchens to arrange a tray for the footman looking over the man, he's probably in the sitting room by now. He's been living in the house for months, he probably knows every warren and servants corridor and has vanished into the woodwork,' Derek knew in that instant that Finstock absolutely knew they were hiding in the closet, and he wasn't sharing that information.

Stiles slumped a little realising what Derek had, his face brushing against Derek's, 'I'm ruined,' he muttered, 'you've ruined me.'

'Quiet,' Derek murmured into his ear, 'they'll hear you,' Derek couldn't help but feel the weight of his cock in his borrowed pants, it had been a long time since he had had anyone in his arms, and this nymph would have tempted the resolve of a saint. He smelled sweetly of lilac and was warm and delightful in Derek's arms. He was beautiful with a mouth that seemed designed for sin with plump lips and a smattering of little natural mouche across peachy skin.

It had been a while, Derek thought, too long, and once his bruises were done it would be something that he could take care of. There were plenty of nymphs available for the correct coinage. This boy belonged to the man outside the closet who felt so threatened by Derek's attention to him.

Finstock managed to continue the conversation, 'Colonel, and from the India regiment, which part of the country were you in, I spent a year in Delhi shitting like my life depended on it, between the bad water and the biting things, so many biting things, it's a wonder I didn't die, longest two years of my life, six months there, a year of guts turned to water and looking like I had lain with a hedgehog for the marks upon me, then six months back, of storms and some of the worst weather I have ever encountered. The entire country was hot, full of things that wanted to eat me and things I could not eat.'

In another situation Derek might have laughed, as Finstock continued 'I understand you're eager to go back there, can't imagine why, it's not quite hell on earth, but that's only because the curry is tasty.'

Colonel Lahey, who it seemed lacked the ability to read the room, went on to wax lyrical about the part of India that he was in, which was in the Kashmir valley and was among the loveliest places on earth. He continued about how well paid English soldiers were for the relocation and how cheap everything was there, and how he had been invited to remain as a guest of the Durrani Empire, and had bought a lovely house that he was yearning to show to the young vidame, who would be worshipped like a king amongst the dark Indian ladies. He also said, and this was in a lowered voice, that he had brought a Kashmiri shawl as a courting gift for the boy. That was the word that caused Stiles to stiffen, he called him a boy.

Stiles would turn nineteen that autumn and was in that prickly age where he desperately wished to be considered an adult. He was about to be presented to society, and Lahey clearly considered him old enough to marry but still called him boy.

Stiles stiffening caused Derek to move and there was a grunt that wanted to escape him but if he did he would reveal them and ruin Stiles. Stiles, whose forearm was on his shoulder immediately clamped his hand over Derek's mouth. His eyes were wide at the idea that they might be caught, but Finstock continued talking. And it was getting more and more obvious that Finstock knew where they were because he kept trying to move Lahey into the sitting room, but Lahey didn't want to go. 'Of course,' Lahey said, 'I shall not depart for India before my father dies, but I do think that shall be within the year,' Derek knew that Lahey's relationship with his father was at best antagonistic. Henry Lahey had a bad reputation for enjoying drink and his fists, especially upon his sons. Yet when he died Lahey would inherit the title his father held, even if it was on the much lower end of the peerage, and that would hold weight in his new position in India. It was a position that would not have been possible without the support of the Honorable East India Company, confirming for Derek that he was in bed with them.

The Honorable East India might have been the true face of evil - the bureaucratic nightmare of trade and exploitation. They were richer than god and had more power than any of the potentates of Europe. If the East India wanted the seal any of those in bed with them would take it, and they would kill anyone who got in their way, without fear of reprisal becase they were the East India and even God did what they wanted. If Lahey was an East India man and he wanted an omega bride they would have selected Stiles for him, someone who would not look out of place for someone of his position - a gratuity in exchange for further service.

Derek had thought that Lahey was an ass. He had been too kind in his assessment.

And this lovely youth in his arms, although not there for desire but instead fear, would be treated by this man, and his terrible moustache, as nothing more than a trinket to be displayed.

Derek wanted him to have taken the watch so that he could see Peter destroy him as a traitor, because then Stiles would be free of him.

He was yet to decide if he wanted the youth for himself.

Outside the closet Finstock finally managed to move Lahey into the sitting room, talking loudly enough that they could track him leaving and make sure he was gone before they cracked open the door, and untangled themselves to leave the closet and the air was suddenly cold without Stiles' breath washing over his face. 'Thank you,' Stiles said.

'I'll go in first,' Derek said and his arms felt empty and even his cock which had felt heavy, making him aware of it despite the pain that he was in.

'I'll duck down the back stairs, come up through the dining room,' Stiles said. 'They'll be about to serve the second course,' he looked bereft and confused and Derek didn't like it, he wanted to see the bright brilliant young man who had sat on the club fender fleecing him at cards as he tried to work out who it was that had taken the watch.

Finstock had thought that he was covering for two lovers seeking a moment alone. Instead he had, although without intent, broken Stiles' heart.

It was something that the doctor could not fix.

Stumbling through the door, holding himself aloft with the door frame Derek went into the sitting room, and lurched over to his uncle and slid down onto the couch with a grimace. 'Am I to assume,' Peter said, 'that I should postpone my trip to the necessary until the room is aired out completely?'

Derek was not in the mood for his uncle's wit, and said so.

'Strange,' Peter said, 'how you now smell of lilacs? Was there a perfumed soap there that I was unaware of?'

Derek knew exactly what his uncle was about, and he wasn't having any of it and made that clear, 'Lahey is a company man,' he said, 'he has friends in high places in Kashmir.'

Peter nodded as if he had expected no less of the man, who was now entrenched in lively debate with Finstock in front of the fire, about the journey to India, loud enough that Derek could hear all of it, and Lahey's eyes narrowed when Stiles came in holding the dinner gong with a grin from the dining room side, 'I have the honor,' the vidame said, 'of announcing, dinner is served,' and then he struck the gong just once. Derek suspected he had wanted to bang the gong the very first time he had seen the thing and that this was the first time he had been allowed to do so. Lady McCall shook her head fondly at the spectacle, as Stiles, spider limbed, went over to the club fender and picked up Derek's cane, handing it to him, 'it looks like you dropped this,' he said, and then offered his arm to his sister, 'shall we?' He asked her.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, assessing her brother with what looked like a cold indifference and sharp knowledge but she said nothing.

Peter raised an eyebrow, 'you will tell me everything,' and the tone of his voice was like a promise. It was as if he understood that Derek might want to talk about it, and most curiously, Derek did. He wanted to voice all the things that were flitting about his head like butterflies, lashed by the pain of his back and hips, but in that closet, in that warm dark with Stiles Derek had wanted the vidame. He had wanted to break off the engagement because Lahey was an ass and Stiles was brilliant. Until he had left the closet Derek had not realised that he might want Stiles for himself instead.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

As he approached the table Peter was approached, Derek saw, by his servant, Theo, who whispered something in his ear before Peter took his seat. Peter took the news with a slight furrowing of his brows and told Theo to tell Derek what it was that he had shared. Theo, offering to help Derek to his seat on the other side of the table, leaned in close enough that he could talk privately with him. "The watch is back on the counter," Theo said in a low voice, 'complete with seal,' like Peter before him Derek furrowed his brow trying to consider what it meant, "but the seal tastes like soap."

 

Derek blinked. He was not as used to the vagaries of Theo's behaviour and did not understand what he was being told, so he urged the man on. 

 

"They made a soap impression of the seal," Theo said, "you wet soap until it's soft and press the seal in, you can later fill the impression with wax to make a lost wax mould. It would allow them to use the seal without the seal being reported as missing.'"

 

This complicated matters greatly, for it meant that they could not just find the watch on the offender. 

 

It also meant that this was not the first time that they had done something like this and all of the seals would have to be changed just in case which caused all manner of havoc for both the home office and the war office, as many of those seals had been in the family of the staff for centuries and they would be loathe indeed to change. Some of them were loathe to change their shirts, changing their seals would be the sort of task expected of Hercules.

 

"Good job," Derek said, for unlike his uncle he did believe in praising good work, "is there anything we can do?"

 

Peter had hired Theo on the spot when the young man, and at the time he had been eleven years old, had tried to pick his pocket. Instead of giving the boy a thrashing he had been dazzled that not only had the boy gotten so close to him but had managed to get his fingers into his pocket before Peter had noticed that he was there.

 

In the following eight years Peter had trained Theo to be both an exceptional valet and to pass as a gentleman that he could fit in perfectly both above and below stairs. Peter had, in a moment of genius that no one could have seen coming - least of all Peter himself - supplied the British government with one of the best spies it had ever produced.

 

"They will have the mould somewhere on their person, and with the soap taking a long time to dry and the fear it might crack if it dries too much, so it will be kept possibly in a small tin or pot." He mused on it for a moment before he continued, "it will most likely be a small thing, bigger than the seal but not by much. I'd look for a snuff box. If I get the opportunity,' Theo said, 'I'll try to lift them, but it might be an idea to ask if anyone has some to share after your meal." Then excusing himself despite Derek's protestations of his skill, Theo left the dining room. Derek, having had his chair tugged out, sank into it gratefully, as another footman, one of the usual staff, helped him push it under the table.

 

Again the McCall's kitchen had done themselves proud. There were plates heaped high with all manner of delights and plenty of carafes of wine and water, and even a small pot of rosehip tea for Derek. 

 

There were three whole roast partridges forming a pyramid of meat where the juices dripped down to potatoes and other winter vegetables that had been roasted with them. There was a tray of eggs a'la trip next to a large tureen of ragout of sweetbreads which smelled like angels ought to smell. It would not surprise Derek at all if he died and found at the pearly gates that they opened to reveal a wall of that smell because it smelled so very good. There was lamb fry and a huge platter of macaroni in a soupy cheese sauce. 

 

Derek, whose appetite had been suppressed by the pain he was in, felt his mouth water, and he was not alone in thinking so. Lieutenant Parrish was effusive in his praise to the extent that the table laughed at his antics. 

 

On the sideboard behind them were spread their desserts and cheeses. It was rare indeed that the sweet course was separated from the second course, although Lydia did tell her brother to at least have some of the meat before he dived on the sideboard's offerings. 

 

With the same level of care the sweet dishes were exquisitely made but where in London the cake would be carved to make a centrepiece for the table, there was a muffin pudding studded with dry cherries for each of the diners, three large tarts with ink dark damson jam in the soft shortcrust pastry and a large chantillie basket that they might dress their own dessert.

 

As the plates were passed around, for eating in this manner as much less formal than having a footman serve each dish, the conversation started up talking about the storm outside which had not eased any.

 

"I fully imagine most of the roads will be washed out tomorrow," Lord McCall said as his glass was filled with red wine. There were candelabra on the table between each couple so the room was brightly lit and the table's usual centrepiece, a disturbing statue of a lion and an elephant caught in some kind of death battle, had been removed to make way for the dishes. It meant that there was no impediment to looking at any person at the table. "It might make the hunt tomorrow impossible."

 

"We would not want to see a horse break its leg because it's up to its withers in mud," Lord Argent offered.

 

"The mud here in Derbyshire," Peter offered his opinion, "is soupy and black, it would be a shame, we certainly could not hunt foxes," he carved himself a bite of partridge wing, pulling it from the bone with as much ease as if it was made of butter, and popped it into his mouth and chewed, "do you have rifles enough for game hunting, perhaps pigeon shooting. The entire hunt need not be called off."

 

"My dear Allison will be disappointed," Lord Argent said, "for it is not seemly for an omega to handle a rifle."

 

Peter, who could not see a sore spot without poking it, offered "pshaw and nonsense, some of the finest gunners I've ever seen were omega," he said, "now I'm not sure I would give a loaded weapon to our young vidame," he gestured with his head to Stiles, "for he is likely to trip and shoot one of us with it, and it would be a great trophy if on his first armed hunt he bagged himself an alpha."

 

Stiles laughed delightedly, "I shall have to shoot Colonel Lahey,' he said, 'it is very much what is expected of me."

 

Derek resisted the urge to offer him a rifle there and then.

 

"And you, vidama, would you aim for game or would you try to snare yourself an alpha?" Peter asked Lydia, "for Vidama Argent might have to lay out traps in order that she might escape her intent pursuers." He looked at the two alphas whose attention had been caught by his naming the object of their affection.

 

"Why, my lord," Lydia said in that soft voice she used when she wanted to appear very much the airheaded society chit, "I would have to aid my friend in her attempts to make at least one of them Actaeon to her Artemis."

 

This caused Vidama Argent's two suitors start to bicker amongst themselves as they fought over who would be her Actaeon, clearly with no idea what had happened to the hapless youth in the story.  They looked like it was only the table between them that stopped them duelling with their dinner knives. Lahey, in particular, looked as if he might use his fish fork as a trident gladiatorial style by launching it at young McCall.

 

Peter got the reference even if they did not, and grinned at the young vidama as he handed her the pot of chutney that she had requested. She offered him a smile through her lashes as she accepted it, but was careful not to touch his hand when she took the pot. A flirtatious look could be ignored but a touch of bare skin without even a glove could be scandalous and mistaken for an invitation to something more.

 

Enough was already going on, Derek thought, without Peter trying to sneak into the bedroom of a vidama, even if he was invited by the girl in question. Especially as Peter knew her father by marriage so very well.

 

That, unfortunately, was reason enough for Peter to do it. 

 

Lady Woodrow noticed the gesture for Derek saw her eyes narrow as she looked down the table before she asked for the butter to be passed.

 

Stiles had not noticed the flirtation but asked Lydia to pass him the mustard which was beside the chutney and broke off the look between his sister and the very inappropriate alpha she was flirting with. it was entirely possible that Lydia was flirting because she enjoyed it, some people did, Peter certainly did, but Peter was never going to be prey if she wanted to catch him. 

 

Stiles took the mustard, cut a large piece from the ball and then carefully mixed it into his gravy to season it instead of just adding the sharpness to the pheasant. “Careful, Stiles,” Vidama Argent said, “you don’t want to be all vinegar.”

 

The comment was sharper than the condiment, and Stiles flinched, curling in on himself and taking a deep breath before he took another bite. “I am sure we all wish we could eat like the vidame,” Dr Finstock said, “there are few signs of better health than a healthy appetite, unlike some who are not quite wearing enough powder to hide the dark circles under their eyes that hint at malnutrition. It’s a terrible thing to see a lovely girl collapse because she just had to have her waist cinched in just another half inch, it’s almost like they want to set a fashion for being all ribs and blue fingernails.” He took a sip of his wine, “I am not sure where the vidame puts it but I would like access to that place for this ragout is excellent.”

 

Had Derek been in any other state other than the vigilance necessitated by the investigation he might have missed it. As the doctor spoke the vidame laughed as he took a bite of bread, a crumb must have gone the wrong way for his eyes started to bulge a little and he ducked his chin and reached for his water. Derek, without thinking, reached into his pocket and pulled out his kerchief passing it across the table and to the vidame who took it gratefully to cough into, and then blew his nose.

 

Down the table Colonel Lahey slammed down his cutlery and exclaimed, “you go too far,” which caused Lady Woodrow to loudly sigh and sit back in her chair with the wine, “all of this bickering over male omega,” she drawled, sounding just a little drunk. “More likely to die in childbed and without even the benefit of tits.”

 

At the same time as Lord Argent barked out Kate to chastise her Lady McCall said, loud enough to be heard, “one would have to have their husband visit their bed to learn of childbed,” she stood up, “and not the Savoy, Stiles, Lydia, Vidama Argent, shall we retire to the sitting room, the air in here has become quite unpleasant.” Before she left Vidama Martin took a clean plate from the sideboard and heaped it high with the cherry muffins, a thick slice of the damson tart and thick dollops of the whipped chantilly cream in an act of defiance. It was clear that they were for Stiles in defiance of other opinions of his appetite.

 

Lady Woodrow was not invited and as the others left she remarked “all alone with all of these alphas, am I not blessed?” 

 

She was resting her wineglass against her bosom, rolling the glass against her skin. “I think, sister,” Lord Argent said, “that you have had quite enough excitement.” 

 

At the same time Peter said, “and without even the benefit of tits.”

 

Kate ignored her brother and turned to Peter, “how dare you?”

 

Her complaints were overruled when Lord Argent stood up, “Kate, that is more than enough.” At that she looked a little chastised, “against my better judgement I offered you Victoria’s engagement to this party to act as chaperone for Allison because I believed the time apart from London would do you well, instead you are an embarrassment to me.”

 

Kate stood up, her chair scraping back on the wood with a terrible squeal, “I’m an embarrassment?” she asked, “when Father laments each day that you were born the alpha and not me, or that Victoria was not his alf-” that was as far as she got before Argent slapped her hard across the face.

 

“Go to your room, Kate, and sleep this off,” he ordered, “or I shall ask Lord McCall to put you out into the storm to walk your way back to London.”

 

“I am considering doing it now,” Lord McCall drawled sitting back with his own wine. 

 

Kate might have been drunk, but she could take a hint. Theo, who had been stood with the other footmen, stepped forward, "My Lady," he offered, "let me assist you," and Derek knew that Theo would have her pocket picked by the time they reached the stairs.


	16. Chapter 16

Camden Lahey was a man, who had, in the years since he had left his father's house, gotten used to getting his own way and getting what he wanted. He had used what little money remained from his mother's family to buy himself colours in a regiment without the reputation preferred by the lackadaisical lordlings he had grown up with. Prepared to apply himself in order to proceed and gain a steady livelihood where he could support his brother apart from their father he had avoided those of his fellows who attended parties and dined out on their uniforms, the so-called plungers that he considered the plague of the British army. He had gone to India secure that his brother was taken care of, at a fine educational establishment and far from the reach of his father's cruelties, and made the most out of every opportunity that presented itself. He had, by virtue of knowing who to challenge and to whom to defer, a talent beaten into him by his father, risen from captain, to major to lieutenant colonel.

He had made himself valuable to the ambassadorial corps, then invaluable, so they sponsored his retirement from the regiment, and returned him to London where he was introduced to the people who made policy and was introduced to the members of society who greased the wheels. Whilst at a meeting in a teahouse he had had the good fortune to encounter the Vidame Stilinksi, who had been spending the day shopping with his sister and stepmother.

It was the laughter of a baby that had caught Lahey's attention for the vidame was sat at a table next to one being used by a new mother, with her baby on her knee, and an older beta lady, and the young vidame was pulling faces and generally being foolish to amuse the baby who was chortling loudly as the vidame changed his exaggerated expression behind his hand. Given the opportunity Lahey was certain that the vidame would have had the stranger's baby on his lap to play with it. His sister had reminded their mother that there was no use in scolding him for such behaviour because he was going to do it anyway ignoring the scone on the plate in front of him.

Lahey had heard tales of alpha who had fallen in love with omega as if struck by cupid's arrow and, being a practical man, had dismissed them as sentimental nonsense. Then he had seen Vidame Stilinski and the world paused with a thump, like an arrow finding it's mark, and watching him, uncaring of how people saw him, limned by soft afternoon light and the smoke from pipes around the room, in his bright red wool redingote with it's brass buttons. He had asked his companion who it was and he replied, "Vidama Martin, you might as well not try with her, she's set to be the season's incomparable next year, with that hair and skin there will be few who can compete with her for beauty, and it's said she's devilish clever too."

"No," Lahey said, "the vidame." The mother had noticed the vidame's antics and offered him the child whilst she visited the necessary, and despite his mother's clucking he had taken the child so carefully, setting it down on his lap as if it was the most precious thing in the empire and Lahey ached, he wanted to come home at night to the image of the lovely young man with the babe on his knee and it to be his child. He wanted. He wanted to see those wide brown eyes the first time they caught sight of India for it was as wondrous as he was. He wanted to tug back that cravatte and bury his face in the divot behind his ear where he would dab perfume to cover up his omega wax. He wanted to run his hands up the sleek lines of his ribs and rub his thumbs over the dip of armpit and leave kisses where the skin was paper thin at wrist and elbow and the back of his knees.

He wanted.

He wanted in a way that he had wanted none in his life before.

He wanted a life with this vidame laughing in a coffeehouse with a stranger's baby as he wanted nothing in his life before.

And he hadn't even known his name.

 

Lahey approached wooing Mieczyslaw with the same determination he had used to climb the ranks in his majesty's armies. He got himself invited to the club that Sir Noah Stilinski, the vidame's father, attended and made a point to befriend the man. He was frank about his intentions for he understood that a friendship, and the access to the vidame that it allowed, could be shattered by a falsehood later revealed. He discovered that he had quite a lot in common with the older alpha, for they both had spent a period in the army, it was in service in Russia that Sir Noah had met his wife, the lovely Klavdiya who had been Mieczyslaw's mother. Despite his remarriage he wore a brooch with a miniature of her tucked into the watch pocket of his vest.

With time and patience he was invited to the house and then to spend time chaperoned with the vidame where he found him even more delightful than he had dreamed. The vidame was everything that Lahey himself was not, bright and brilliant and fascinating in his brilliance. In a city where individuality was stamped out for all but the richest he was very definitely, and defiantly, himself and in the face of that Lahey had no defence. He made clear his intentions to offer for the vidame but his father was adamant that he be presented first but it soon became common knowledge, spread perhaps by Lahey's young brother Isaac to promote his own standing and who himself was trying to court an omega, that Lahey would offer for the vidame and that he would be accepted. Sir Noah said nothing about the rumour but now Lahey was at a party with the vidame and Lord Peter Hale, Sir Noah's dear friend and someone who could tell Sir Noah to refuse his suit and it was clear that Hale did not like him, and worse Hale's man, Silverdale, was offering impertinences to a vidame who was as good as offered for.

At first it had been staring over high tea, Silverdale had stared at the vidame like a dog watching his master eat a steak in the hope that the relentless gaze would cause his master to give in and give him the beef. Lahey had wanted to say something but it was clear that the vidame had no interest in the man for he was a cripple, and so Lahey had been quiet.

When the vidame had helped him down the stairs after changing for dinner Lahey had appreciated the vidame's kindness but something had occurred between the two, spurred on by Lord Hale, to share conversation, babbling in some foreign tongue like monkeys. They had flirted over the first course of dinner whilst Lahey was forced to the end of the table with the rabble, only placed higher than his own brother who spent the entire course bickering like a cat with young McCall over the affection of a waspish but pretty enough omega girl, who had no interest in her suitors which was obvious to even the most casual observer, whilst the girl's aunt accosted poor Lieutenant Parrish who had the misfortune of sitting next to her.

In the pause between the two courses the accursed cripple, Silverdale, had the audacity to sit with the vidame playing cards and talking in their accursed monkey language and whatever it was that the cripple said to the vidame it caused him to laugh loud and free in a way that Lahey himself had never achieved. And worst of all everything was chaperoned so he could not even accuse Silverdale of impropriety.

After the furore of the broken window and the appearance of the mad academic Lahey knew that his place was with the vidame, reassuring him but Silverdale had beaten him to it, sat on the chair left for people who called unexpectedly like it was not improper and it was only the fact that Silverdale was half a man that stopped Lahey calling him out there and then. It was made worse when the two disappeared when they returned to the room and that damned doctor Finstock, who was sat higher at the tsble than Lahey, kept him in conversation so he could not find the two at their obvious tryst and the obvious attempt to disprove it by having them enter from different doors didn't convince him, and then Silverdale had the gall, the impudence to offer the vidame his kerchief.

It was not to be borne.

If Silverdale was hale he would have called him out for a duel there and then, or at least box his ears, for the vidame was Lahey's , he had spent the best part of the last year wooing him and his family with the knowledge that he would promise for him once he was in his season so it did not look improper. Snatching omega out of the schoolroom was considered the worst of manners although rich alpha families would sponsor omega with the promise of marriage down the line.

Something would have to be done.

And with the vesdames and Lady McCall excused from the room, and Lady Woodrow sent to her bed to sleep off her bellyful of brandy, Lahey had the perfect opportunity.

He had fallen in love with the boy in the coffee shop with a stranger's baby on his knee and his entire being focussed on making it laugh and none would take it from him. He stroked his moustache with forefinger and thumb. He had risen to the position of Colonel in his majesty's army through hard work and skill. He deserved to marry the omega that he had chosen. He had done everything right, and tried to be a good man, as far as he could, and he had done everything that society thought that he should and he would not let some penniless cripple take his prize from him just because he spoke whatever monkey language it was that they shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know its late and its short, mea culpa, ive not been well, but lets have camden's pov for a chapter


	17. Chapter 17

Lady McCall's private sitting room was framed by a pair of French doors that opened out unto the patio which were rattling in the window with a clattering of glass that sounded like a very disturbed kitchen maid taking her temper out on the washing up. A homely fire had been set in the grate with a few bricks of coal. There was a bowl of flowers sat on the hearth and the heat caused the elderflower and lavender to give up their oils and made the room have a sort of heavy old perfume like opening the drawer of a beloved dowager who over years had tucked countless sachets between their chemises. Stiles was convinced it both needed a really good airing out and really comforting. Natalie used every lotion and potion available on the market, trying them a few times and then passing them to the staff, so her bedroom smelled clean and a little like carbolic and Stiles' own mother, Klavdiya, had died when he was still in the nursery and smelled mostly of coffee which she drank day long, and prune candies secreted about her pockets and sharp peppermints that she would carry in a tin and would roll around in her mouth with cloying Russian syllables, so Stiles had never really known that sort of old flower comfort that Lady McCall had cultivated. It was likely that Allison hadn't either because her mother smelled of pine, lily of the valley and gunpowder. Lady Woodrow wore a perfume so very overpowering that Stiles got a headache sitting next to her so the idea of those women providing maternal comfort was ludicrous.

Lydia was the last to enter and upon doing so placed a platter heaped high with offerings from the sideboard of the dining room, and from the pockets of her gown she pulled some of the silverware and two napkins. At that moment Stiles lamented that she did not, unlike her mother, carry a flask of something fortifying in her skirts.

Lady McCall seemed to share the sentiment for she took a key from a hiding place in the escutcheon of the cabinet and unlocked it to reveal a tantalus from which she pulled a decanter, took a sniff before pouring its contents into four wineglasses that she brought over with fingers twisted around the stems. "I think this night requires a little port," she said, "medicinally, of course, for the nerves."

Allison took the glass and it seemed it undid whatever hold she had had over her emotions for she immediately began to weep, managing to flounce without leaving her chair.

Lydia, who was not good with emotions - even her own - looked displeased that someone dared to have them in her vicinity, but did try to support her friend by passing her a napkin and patting her hand and saying "there, there."

Stiles was just as much at a loss of what to do as his sister and so repeated Lady McCall's example and took a drink of his port so as not to have to say anything.

"I shall never be married," Allison wailed, "for my family is the worst in all of England." Stiles washed down the concession that formed on his lips that she was quite correct by taking another sip of port. "Those who consider it worth the risk of a life with my grandfather and aunt are turned down by my father, often on the silliest reasons, one had the wrong type of gun dog, can you countenance it?" This was followed by her protestations that she didn't do this and she wasn't that type of silly flighty omega who cried to get her own way. This caused Lydia to screw up her mouth as she clearly caught whatever it was that she was going to say between her teeth, and Lady McCall took a lusty swallow of her port and then went back to the cabinet and poured herself more port which emptied the decanter. For a moment the room was lit with a flash of brilliant lightning so she cursed this d---d storm in what she had supposed had been a mutter but was in fact quite loud.

"Eat," Lydia said finally, passing one of the cake forks to Allison, "it never seems so awful when you have a full belly, especially one stuffed with sweets, it's why dear Stiles is so jovial, if you cut him he would spill syrup and not blood, which is for the best for it can make him swoon, it makes his monthlies quite a thing to see," despite herself Allison laughed.

"I must look quite awful," she said, patting her cheeks with the napkin to dry her tears, and then from the pocket of her own gown pulled a lace kerchief that looked to have the practicality of a sugar umbrella and used it to blow her nose with a loud trumpet. Allison had the terrible misfortune to be one of those girls who managed to cry prettily and did not look, as Stiles did, like a leaky turnip wearing a fashionable wig. In fact she looked refreshed and pinker than she had before which suited her, for she had looked unwell.

"You are too thin," Lydia said, "this happens every time that you spend any length of time with your aunt, you starve yourself almost to the point of being gamine, and it does not suit you, I worried every time that you stood up that you might swoon, and I get enough of th with him," Allison laughed at Stiles' insult at that comment. "I swear she convinces you that your diet should be like hers, mostly wine."

"She married in her first season," Allison complained, "and I am to start my second, should I not take her advice, dearest Lydia, you do not know what it is like, if you do not have a mother who will actively campaign on your behalf you shall not gain the notice of any suitable alpha, and those who are victim to my mother's active campaigning suddenly decamp to the peninsula, I have heard it said, not too unfairly, that she would better benefit the war effort than gain vouchers for Almacks, and it does not help that it is joked that my father would sell me for access to the better stud hounds for his Minerva." Minerva was the gundog that had accompanied Lord Argent and was currently stabled near, but not with, Lord McCall's hounds for the last thing she had needed, she declared, was a pack of dogs roaming the building in the middle of a house party.

Lady McCall, who had been in the process of being consumed by the large ports she had drunk and installing herself in a cushioned arm chair in front of the chair kept rousing herself with exclamations that she was not asleep, even if a full belly, wine and port; heat and a soft seat were doing their best to pull her under its thrall, shook off the cobwebs and with a hearty sniff said "your aunt married in her first season because your father showed up at the door of Lord Woodrow with pistols and told him to marry her or meet him on the green."

Allison who had clearly not heard this gossip before let out a little wail and further bemoaned that she would die a spinster, fobbing off ill performed watercolours upon the children of Lydia and Stiles.

"Your aunt," Lady McCall continued, looking for more port, "claimed she didn't understand why she should act like a sensible beta of society and declared it's rules to be very much not ton," having decided that there was no more port to be had she hefted herself from her chair was an actual grunt of effort and went to the door calling for "Clarion, we need more port," without caring if her guests heard her, "She acted like the very worst sort of rake, visiting gambling hells, gentleman's clubs and even brothels," she said that last in a low whisper, "she was seen about town in breeches and blouse, with not even a vest to protect her modesty," this it seemed to Lady McCall to have been the final straw, "and was so scandalous that your father even went into London to corral her, mostly by finding her latest entertainment and forcing the two to wed in the hope of salvaging some reputation. It is said on the morning of her matrimony she was found in a molly house, her skirts around her knees as she drank absinthe," Lady McCall knew to pause to give the word a chance to sink in, "playing cards with an opium pipe hanging from her lips. I would not take her advice if it was how to piss in a pot." The epithet seemed entirely out of place from Lady McCall who was usually so polite and proper. "Clarion!" she called into the hall again, "where is that man? Has he gone to the Peninsula to fetch another bottle?" Having decided that the servant would not be soon returning she took one of the bottles of spirits from the decanter and refilled her glass.

"I shall never marry," Allison wailed again, and this time took Lydia's advice and scooped a huge mouthful of cream and cherry muffin into her mouth.

"There's always America," Stiles offered.

"You can talk," Allison said sulkily, "you are sure to be offered for."

"That does not mean that father will agree," Lydia said, "Colonel Lahey has been rather coy in his determination to decamp to  
india after the marriage, I cannot imagine Father would be glad to see either of us travel so far." She smoothed out her skirts which she did when she was flustered, "and it has not escaped my attention, brother, that you and Silverdale have been in close communication all evening. It is almost improper." Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, "and he is a very fine looking gentleman."

Had it just been the two of them Stiles would have told her about the advances that had been made in the investigation but instead he maintained the fiction that Peter had set up for the two of them, that their conversations were the singular delight of sharing a rare interest with someone, in their case Russian Literature which he told her.

"So now Stiles has two suitors," Allison finished her sentence by forcing anything else she might have said with a forkful of cream covered damson tart, "and the two that I have shall not even gain permission to use my first name."

"would you like to trade?" Stiles asked, taking one of the forks and daring to take a piece of the dessert from Allison, "for I am sure that my father will refuse Silverdale by virtue of him being hard pressed and Lahey because he wants to take me to India, mention to your father that he might hunt tigers and I am sure he would be interested in the courtship."

"Are you funning?" Lydia asked, "he would have her in front of the altar faster than George could bristle."


	18. Chapter 18

With the object of their affection having left the room it did not take long for the tensions between the two admirers to finally erupt into violence, over the dining table, when McCall passed the tray of eggs a'la trip to his rival forcefully enough that it tipped over young Lahey's lap splattering curried cream sauce all over him. Lahey came to his feet using the worst sort of language to refer to the son of his host which caused Colonel Lahey and Lieutenant Parrish to try and wrangle them into civility whilst the three Lords at the head of the table rescued their wine from the table with a series of jaded sighs like they had expected the entire thing to explode into violence. In the fracas Colonel Lahey managed to accidentally strike Derek across the face with his elbow. Derek doubted the veracity of his apologies as traditionally accidental elbows were generally pointed towards the floor and not the ceiling, but unwilling to further the violence, which ended when Dr Finstock grabbed both men by the collar and marched them to the front door, intending to kick them into the rain to cool off, and Derek's nose stopped bleeding. He really was having the very worst day - the one bright spot of which was the same thing that caused the colonel to accidentally elbow Derek in the face.

Derek decided that if he had not been so incapacitated by his earlier tumble and so involved in the search for the missing seal he would have called him out there and then, that they might use pistols, Peter almost certainly had a pair is in his luggage, on the lawn come daybreak. He also suspected that the young omega over whom they were fighting would be most displeased by the behaviour but it was not ton to brawl like dockers, and that would almost certainly tear up the grass and flatten Lady McCall's petunias. Lady McCall would certainly not appreciate the slight to her hospitality.

Dr Finstock, with the usual unrestrained and inappropriate conversation, bodily threw the two of them into the lashing rain with the promise that if they would behave like misbehaving dogs that they could spend the rest of the evening in the yard and would not come back until they had both apologised to their hostess - a feat made more complicated by Lady McCall having taken the omega into her retiring room and as such had no idea of the insult.

The application of the rain did little to stop the fighting and the two men, suddenly unrestrained of those who had prevented serious injury immediately turned to scrapping, like puppies trying to bite and scratch in mock battles. Lieutenant Parrish, who looked that he might not have ever heard such words, cursed and the footmen and butler went into the rain to pull them apart. It didn't take much for the whole thing to turn into a sort of brawl as the footmen slip-slid around in the rain and wet gravel to try and prevent the two antagonists doing any harm.

However with the rain pelting down the gravel, which, by its nature, did not present a firm surface, had become a slippery surface not unlike a freshly waxed tile floor and the butler, Carlion, recognisable by his erect mien and fine clothes, slipped, or possibly tripped - with the rain and mass of bodies it was hard to tell - and put his hand down to catch himself, which he did with a crack loud enough that everyone stopped to look around for the source of the sound as Lieutenant Parrish and Dr Finstock - both of whom clearly recognised the sound for what it was - ran into the rain to his aid.

The butler's scream of pain, for he had clearly broken his wrist judging by the angle at which it hung, did at least stop the two combatants who allowed themselves to be ushered into the house under the instruction that they were to dry by the fire as long as they behaved but they were not to participate in the next day's sport. Dr Finstock grumbled as he followed the footmen guiding their injured compatriot into the kitchens that this was fast turning from a pleasant dinner to one of his busiest evenings and if one more person hurt themselves he was going to defy the storm and take his gig back to the village for Lady McCall's hospitality might be famous but even Prinny's cooks weren't worth this.

Had Derek been in better health he might not have lingered in the hallway long enough to see one of the footman stoop to pick up a small sparkling object from the gravel and pocket it, ideally to return it to it's owner. Derek was not close enough to see what it was that was rescued from the entrance but he did see that his uncle also noticed the footman lifting the object.

Such a scene was considered to be so much high drama that it would have been suspicious that a notorious gossip as Peter Hale had spurned the opportunity to witness it personally so that it could be shared amongst his peers, and as he walked past Derek, still holding his wine glass which was half full, that it was certain that young McCall would be touring Europe now, perhaps as soon as the end of the month, if his manners were so lacking that he caused an actual brawl at his own mother's dining room table over a tray of eggs.

He squeezed Derek's shoulder as he walked past, commenting almost under his breath, "I had assumed, erroneously it seems, that it would be you and the elder Lahey rolling around in the mud."

"If I was to roll around in the mud with someone, uncle," Derek drawled, "it would not be Colonel Lahey, I do not care for his moustache."

"No, I don't imagine him to be your type at all, not at all like a certain omega." Peter was clearly finding the whole affair delightful. He enjoyed having power over people and Derek knew that best about his uncle.

"Am I the only Hale who has eyes on one of the vesdames?" Derek was happy to make sure that his uncle knew that he was paying as much attention to his uncle as his uncle was to him. But Peter just laughed. It would take more than the accusation of such to affect Peter. "Be careful, uncle, you have a close relationship with her father," Peter just cocked his eyebrow and his smirk spread like an ink stain, "and she will be a diamond of the first order."

"Tell me, Derek," Peter said putting his hand on Derek's shoulder as he walked past him, "are you worried more about the effects on my courtship or yours?"

Derek was old enough to know that sticking his tongue out at his uncle would not be good ton, but sometimes such a childish response was the correct one. Instead he gave a loud exhalation through his nose that Peter might hear just how exhausting dealing with him often was.

It did not matter for Peter approached the footman who had lifted the shining object from the driveway and exchanged it for a guinea before coming back to Derek to reveal it for a nutmeg grater, which Peter unscrewed, saying loudly for the footman to hear that he was looking for some sort of monogramming that might reveal its owner, although Derek knew that he was looking for the soap casting of the seal. Its only secret turned out to be a half used nutmeg and a powder of the spice so with a sigh Peter slipped the silver trinket into the watch pocket of his vest. Derek had half expected that the trinket would reveal nothing because it couldn't be that easy. "I didn't think it was Parrish anyway," Peter said, he had obviously noticed something that Derek had not for him to say such, "I shall return this to him."

Derek sagged unto his borrowed cane. He was exhausted and hurt. Odd parts of his body would stiffen and then release as he moved and he was fantasising about the epson bath before bed that he had been promised in the hope it would loosen his muscles enough that he could sleep. A day in a comfortable armchair in front of a fire with a book in a room with the two Stilinski vesdames and Lady McCall sounded delightfully peaceful and a little like bliss.

Yet his skin seemed to still feel the heat of the Stilinski omega against him, the weight of his arms about his neck and the elderflower sweetness of his breath twined with his violet perfume. It would not be a hardship to spend time with him, and the brief flash of Stiles naked on white sheets under Derek, with those same arms pulling Derek down and whispering alpha in a voice made husky by desire almost sent Derek sprawling to the floor despite the support of his cane. A second image of him reaching across the table, his peach ass in skin tight white satin breeches and in the fantasy Derek pulled him unto his own lap, tucking the boy's head into the curve of his neck as his hand found the fall of those breeches and Stiles laughing, the way he did with his whole body. The third image was not a fantasy but the self satisfied little smile that Stiles had had when he had sounded the dinner gong.

"Well, I'll be," Derek said. He had noticed Stiles, certainly, for he was beautiful, and he was smart and he spoke Russian with a high society accent and didn't tease Derek about his own sailor's voice. He just hadn't realized that that wonder which the vidame invoked in him included desire. That desire was not just the hope to have the boy under him but to see him laughing and delighted and happy. He had wanted to lure the boy away from Lahey to spite the man for he was a boor, but he now he wanted Stiles for his own sake and the idea was a surprise to him for he generally did not like people enough to form such an opinion of him.

It was a good thing that Peter supported the match, for more than spiting Colonel Lahey, because it would make it easier to win over the vidame's father. Had Stiles refused Lahey himself then he would be ruined for aiming above his station and turning down a particularly fine marriage proposal, but if his father announced instead that Viscount Silverdale had offered for his son then Stiles' refusal would be seen as simple good sense. Derek, by virtue of his family, had much to offer a bride, enough that Stiles might be seen, despite his position as an vidame, to have achieved more than he should but as a Baron it would be swept away from common conversation and only spoken with vitriol and jealousy. To be a Hale was to be of the highest echelons of the ton, and Baron Hale would become Marquis Hale, able to talk to the dukes and princes of Europe as an equal.

Derek was a very eligible bachelor, an alpha with both title and fortune who had the family connections to stand in the royal household, his alpha mother actually did do her best to curb the excesses of the king's madness, so it did not matter who he married, there would be jealousy.

And standing there in the hallway of Eyam Hall as his uncle bribed one of the footman Derek made his decision - he would marry Vidame Stilinski - if the omega would have him.

\---

Camden Lahey was at his wits end. He had accepted the invitation to Eyam Hall and Lord McCall's pre-demi season grouse hunt, for the sole purpose of spending time with both his brother and his intended, hoping that the two might foster a friendship as both were important to him. He had hoped that after the appropriate amount of hobnobbing with the three lords that had been invited that he might make connections that were advantageous that he would be able to spend time with his intended, properly chaperoned of course that the omega was certain of his intent and his passion.

Instead Isaac and the host's son were bickering like a pair of fish-wives over a vidama whose father had made it clear that he would allow no further courtship than they had been allowed.

Jordan Parrish, a man ill-given to speaking poor of anyone had commented that they were like a pair of gulls fighting over a scrap and he was not wrong. So Lahey was doing his best that his brother did not ruin all of their chances in society, and at the same time some associate of Lord Peter Hale, a Mr Silverdale who did not even warrant an invitation to the party at large had made direct moves to woo the vidame despite telling Lahey directly that he had no intention to, and had been even more solicitous to his care than the vidame's own sister. It was made a greater injury that they shared some private language which Lahey was sure that they were using to discuss him privately.

When the vidame stepped out of the private recieving room and into the corridor Lahey made a terrible decision. The omega was his and he would make sure of it. He would take the boy to Gretna Green here and now, Peter Hale could not talk to the omega's father to discourage the marriage if it was already set. He would elope and do so before any here could prevent it. In his pocket was a small fruit knife and although the idea was there he quashed it for he loved the boy and would not see him hurt.

He didn't see Lahey in the dark of the corridor as he turned to say to his sister, "I'll be right back as soon as I've got a wet cloth, I've gotten cream on my tummy flowers," and stepping away from the light.

It was but the moment to step up behind him, to grab him by the wrist and twist it behind his back. "I've had enough of this," Lahey breathed into the curve of the boy's neck, taking deep, drugging breaths of the scent of him, "you are mine and I shall take you to Gretna so none shall take you from me."


	19. Chapter 19

Vidama Lydia Martin had been perhaps five steps behind her brother which gave her an uninterrupted view of Colonel Lahey press himself against Stiles' back, with his arm twisted behind his back, and say specifically that he would take him to Gretna Green. She was caught with a terrible moment of indecision, for she was not a woman much given to overthinking the choices that she was making. She could scream and bring the whole house down on them, but Lady McCall's call for the butler had gone unanswered so there was a slim chance she could go unheard. The alternative, which was the choice she took, was that she go to the French doors and open them wide to the storm whilst Allison asked her what it was that she was about. Lydia debated telling her but by the point she had decided she had kicked off her shoes, hitched up her hems and was running along the front of the house that she might reach the main door which she knew to be unlatched.

She arrived at the front entry already soaked to the skin with her hair plastered down and her make up resembling a melted candle. The storm was so fierce and the rain so heavy she felt like she had been ducked in the pond. Lord Peter and his man, Silverdale, were there laughing amongst themselves over a small silver box as Lord Peter slipped some coins to one of the footmen. She had no idea what they were about and she did not care.

"Miss Lydia," Peter said slipping off his superfine to drape it around her shoulders, "what are you doing out in the storm?"

Lydia couldn't help but ease into the warmth of his coat, "my brother," she managed before she started to cry, with the whole day and the port and the storm and her worry over Allison and then Stiles was combined with this Peter's kindness was just too much, she started to cry. "Peter," she eschewed formality offering him an intimacy he had not sought from her, "he's taken Stiles, he's going to take him to Gretna Green. He shall be ruined, Father will have a paroxysm, oh god, and I have ruined my gown."

Peter took Lydia's hand and stroked his hand over the back of her's, somewhere she had lost her glove and her skin was clammy and damp against his, "we have you now, " Peter said in aa conciliator fashion intended to ease her mind, "now, slowly, you must tell us what happened."

Peter's conciliations just seemed to enrage her, "Lahey, " she managed, "that bastard has Stiles, he's going to take him to Gretna and marry him over the anvil, we need to find him."

To his credit Silverdale seemed to be in full agreement for he drew his shoulders up to his ears and gave a loud harrumph sound from his nose.

"He won't be going anywhere in this storm," Peter pointed out and as if to underline his point a great thunderclap split the sky, "and even if he did risk the weather the Loughborough Militia has blocked all of the roads."

Lydia did not share his lordship's calm for she swore under her breath about fucking alphas that thought they knew it all. "You stupid man, " she said, "Lahey is an army man, he'll throw my brother over the back of his horse and have him halfway to Carlisle by the time you've decided it's a problem."

"Peter," Silverdale had a low growl, "for once in your life admit that circumstances have escaped your control, now," he turned to Lydia, "vidama, you have been here since the start of summer, what is the quickest way to get to the stables?"

"I'll show you," she said, snatching her hand back from Peter with a wrench, and then hitching up her skirts, the hems of which were quite ruined and she went back into the rain, insensitive of her finery and knowing he would regret it in the following hours and with many grunts of pain Silverdale followed her, allowing Peter to raise the house.

\---

The stable of Eyam Hall was dark and close, with the main doors barred to the night and the storm, when Lydia tested the side door she found it unlatched and went inside. The area was dark except for a puddle of light cast by an oil lamp hung from a hook between two paddocks. It smelled of horse and dry straw and the leather from the tack, but all Lydia had eyes for was her brother. Lahey had him by the wrist, his arm pushed up into his back to prevent any movement as Lahey tried, despite Stiles' struggles, to put a bridle on a confused looking stallion who, like Lydia's brother, was doing his best to get away with one hand and because of this and the noise of the horse Lahey did not notice Lydia's entry.

"This will not endear you to my father," Stiles was saying, "he shall not allow us to marry if you continue like this." He was clearly trying to dissuade Lahey from his current course of action.

"Your father shall not matter if we are already married," Lahey said, trying again, unsuccessfully, to throw the saddle over the back of the skittish horse. The horse's antics were rousing the other animals and causing a great hubbub.

"Society will not accept you," Stiles continued.

"It does not matter," Lahey insisted, "for we shall be in India."

"I do not want this, Camden," Stiles used the name to appeal to him. It didn't work.

"It does not matter what you want," Camden said almost pulling Stiles into the stall after the horse. "When we are shipboard you shall see that this is the best thing, Isaac has ruined everything, but that stupid boy will not prevent me from getting you. I have given everything up for my brother and he can't even keep his temper, we are ruined, none of society will take us after this scandal - damned horse, come here."

The horse, on the verge of panicking now, butted him up against the wall of the stall causing several things to happen at once.

Banging off the wooden divider Lahey lost his grip on Stiles' wrist and the omega wrenched himself free and fell into the fresh straw, scrabbling out of the stall and away from the alpha. Silverdale entered the stable and called out to Lahey to present himself, whilst he gripped his cane like it might be a sword stick - Lydia knew that it was not but Lahey did not share that information. Bastard, the horse that Silverdale had brought to the house and the equine devil which had thrown him earlier, was disturbed from a very pleasant dream of oats by something large and heavy hitting the wall of his stall. It should be mentioned that Bastard was a little deaf, or at least able to sleep through what sounded like a cannonade outside his stable.

Driven to a near frenzy of rage by the disturbance Bastard turned on the opposing heavy lump that had dared to wake him and bit it - hard.

Lahey cried out as the horse bit him on the shoulder with a very large jaw and very heavy teeth.

Stiles, seeing that the horse had appeared to rescue him walked over to Lahey, stamped hard on his foot, drove his knee into his crotch and slammed his forehead into Lahey's nose, he stepped back holding his forehead with a "lord, that hurt," before moving behind Silverdale and into his sister's embrace as she checked him over for injuries, of which he had none except what would promise to be a bruise on his forehead.

Lahey, with blood streaming down his nose, was caught for a moment trying to decide which of the three attackers might be the focus of his wrath stepped forward when the horse that he had been trying to prepare knocked him again into the wall, he lost his balance and slid down the wall which was when Lords McCall and Argent, both armed with pistols, entered, having been roused by Peter who was notable by his absence. Each was keen to be seen that they were the one who was trying to save the endangered omega by waving about their pistols and demanding that Lahey step up that he might be apprehended. To his credit Lord McCall noticed first that the vidame was across the stable and looked to be in far finer fettle than his sister who was wearing the coat of an alpha and whose hems were quite ruined. "Silverdale," Lord McCall said, "I must insist you step away from the vesdames until..."

Lydia would have none of it. "Lord McCall," she said, "Silverdale has been nothing but a gentleman, when Colonel Lahey took my brother I came running for help, believing the quickest way would be through the storm, if any are to be held accountable for my appearance you might rail at the weather. My brother has just undergone the most awful ordeal, and under your roof, to be so abused by one of your guests, if not for Silverdale and Lord Hale I daresay that you would be gathering tack to chase the villain across the fields," she paused to take a deep breath that she might have air enough to say what was needed, "I dare say that you, Lord Argent, might consider it a pleasant romp and enjoy a hunt that would take you as far as India, which is where this calf headed pink would take him." She had wound up to the insult and it seemed that being called a pink in polite company offended Lahey as much as the vidame's knee had.

With her hands on her hips she seemed a more formiddable force than the two alpha peers who were currently brandishing firearms, "now my brother and I will go somewhere where there is a fire and someone," she looked at the two of them, "will bring us brandy because we certainly need something to steady the nerves after this," she dared them to question it, and taking her brother by the hand walked them out of the room to deal with the injured alpha on their own. She already knew that things would be arranged to prevent a scandal and it was likely that both Laheys would be gone by breakfast. Lydia did not care, she took her brother by the hand to the nursery where they had been quartered for their entire stay sure that someone would bring them brandy because she was sure her hands were shaking with agitation like she was a small dog and she was certain that her brother was the same.

She made him sit in front of the fire with a lamp on the mantle and checked him over for injuries as soon as he was in his night shirt but it appeared that apart from the bruise which was sure to form on his forehead from colliding with Lahey's nose, and the mark on his wrist that he was fine. She insisted on applying his cold cream even whilst still stood in her damp stays and shift so she could be absolutely sure that he was well.

She was the one, with a dressing robe pulled tightly about her that opened the door to Dr Finstock who was carrying a bottle of brandy and had two glasses stuffed into the pockets of his coat. The doctor had a rant prepared for how he had been abused when he had only come for dinner and had so far, and it was not long past midnight, three patients - Dr Valack and the butler with the broken arm and the only steak was now adorning the butler so Stiles would have to make do with powdering what would be a brilliant bruise when it bloomed. He did give them a wax of arnica to help it heal and recommended more brandy and a good night's sleep, hopefully the whole affair would be over with the storm.

"Lyds?" Stiles asked when they were tucked up together in the maid's bed, "I am very glad you rescued me. I did not want to go to India."

"Father will have a ringing endorsement for Silverdale," she murmured as she yawned her way into sleep, "he helped after all."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i broke this chapter in two because otherwise it would be oddly long, so enjoy  
> one more chapter to go

Lydia woke in the nursery bed she shared with her brother surprised that during the night that one of them had decided to take the other by the hand. She was not sure which of them was responsible but their clasped hands were together on the pillow between their faces. When their parents had first married both of them, at twelve years old, had maintained they were old enough to sleep alone, but for that first year they had crammed into the bed with their shared governess, an elderly woman with the delightful name of Miss Heliotrope who stunk of peppermint, and when she had taken willing retirement when they were sixteen they had not even considered asking for a bed each. When the arrangements were being made for the pair of them to visit Eyam Hall it was with the understanding that they would share a bed which also meant they served as each others chaperone.

When one of them was unwell and sequestered, the other would find some way around the quarantine and climb into bed with them, twisting their bodies together so body heat could serve as much as medication as whatever syrup and cold compresses were necessary. The two were caustically close, in that they were inseparable and bickered like cats. So the idea that someone had tried to separate them by force was reason enough to grab on to the hand of the other and not want to let go.

Lydia knew, her entire life had been set up for that sole purpose, that they would both marry. Omega were raised with the expectation that they would enter society and find a good match, they would marry in a way that would allow any issue to be upwardly mobile, this created an allowance for the omegas parent to benefit from the social advantages of the marriage.

Stiles looked peaceful in his sleep. All of the worries that had plagued them the night before, although it felt like it had happened a hundred years ago. The whole night felt like it lasted forever and Lydia did not know what to do with that, and then just when she was in a position to understand what was clearly happening between Stiles and Silverdale, and if she needed to insert herself in scenes retroactively to protect Stiles' reputation, for Silverdale was a fine looking gentleman and Stiles was truly terrible at resisting temptation.

Lydia slid out of the bed, took care of her necessities before she rang for the maid in the playroom. She didn't want to wake Stiles, he could use the sleep after the night before. She did not bother with dressing completely, her hair was brushed out and twisted into a loose knot covered by an organza and lace cap, and an apricot silk embroidered banyan over her petticoats.The banyan, unlike Stiles' was shaped around her waist, for a girl was naked without her stays, and had a mock saque back and just skirted propriety. She had stolen it from her mother's closet. and because she was not a complete savage she paired it with an apricot riband threaded through a cameo pendant around her throat, lace gloves and red silk carpet slippers with matching embroidery.

Properly attired she set out to hunt down her prey.

Lord Peter Hale was sat in the morning room drinking strong black coffee and although his clothes were not what he had worn the previous evening there were many hints that he had not slept and it was past ten of the morning. He was freshly shaven and his hair was styled but there was a greyish cast to his skin that had not been there the night before and bags under his eyes large enough to hold potatoes. It did look as if there was not a coffee carafe large enough for him and judging by the decimation of the sugar bowl he was using the contents as a secondary ingredient to his elixir of life.

When Lydia entered he looked like he might stand on propriety and stand up to invite her into the room but decided against it, and simply put down his coffee and nodded his head with a "vidama."

Lydia nodded her head sweetly with a slight curtsey and murmured "milord," before she helped herself to his coffee.

He gestured to the table where several breakfast pastries had been laid out with pots of conserve and curls of chilled butter. "My lord," she said with a sweet smile as she sat facing him, sure that one of the footmen was waiting in the doorway to serve as chaperone, "does this gown truly look like it is for eating in?"

"such a strange conceit," he admitted, "to have breakfast gowns that render one incapable of breaking one's fast."

"Or beds that one does not sleep in," Lydia knew that this man had all the answers that she wished, and she was going to get them. "Come now, my lord, in the moment that we met I knew you to be the smartest person in the room, are you going to do yourself the disservice of not having recognised the same potential in another?"

Peter blinked at her.

She sipped her coffee, strong and black without either sugar or cream, looking at him over the rim.

"I acknowledge that I knew that you were in control of the omega in the room," he offered.

She sighed, a long dragged out sound that expressed her disappointment. "And another alpha underestimates an omega just because they can give birth, how tedious, I had thought you were intelligent enough to have left such prejudices behind, clearly I gave you too much credit. After all you had the entire meeting set because you knew that someone present would steal your watch, I'm guessing of course that the watch itself was meaningless so either you were keeping false state secrets in its case or it was something else kept on the watch chain." He blinked at her again.

"Come now, we are both intelligent people," she said with a smile that was charmingly disarming. "So I shall say it plain, your scheme had nothing to do with my brother until he inserted himself, and his determination to be more than his gender attracted the ire of Colonel Lahey who was set to offer for him."

"Your father would never have allowed the match," Peter said in a dark tone, "I know them both well enough to be sure of that."

"Of course not," Lydia agreed, "but society expected him to offer, if Stiles rejected him he could be seen as," her lips sneered around the word, "uppity, expecting more than was his due, but if Father rejected his suit then Stiles was blameless and his reputation remains intact." Lydia's determination that her brother remain sweet to Colonel Lahey was starting to make sense. "As soon as Father learned about Henry Lahey he was set to drive the man from our door but mother said it would be better if he waited until he was approached, after all, it is important how one is seen." 

Peter Hale was tired. He had spent the night through sorting out the machinations that he had engineered and he had wanted nothing more than to be left alone to drink his coffee that might still be awake when Lords Argent and McCall would return from their investigation of the terrain to see if any of the plans to hunt might be salvaged. The terrible storm of the night before had blown itself down to a persistent but no longer heavy rain just before dawn and Peter was certain that the Derbyshire mud was far too boggy to support any kind of fox hunt, but if the rain eased off there were game birds in the local woods who could be beaten for their amusement.

The last thing Peter wanted at that moment was for a small girl, and she was a tiny slip of a thing, to run rings around him with political machinations that made those at court look pedestrian. She looked like one of the dolls that Talia had bought for her daughters from the modistes who came to the house, the dolls wearing scraps of fashionable fabrics in the latest styles in the hope that Talia or her omega mari, Marianne, would purchase them. Talia bought the dolls with their hard wooden bodies, painted white faces and elaborate silk gowns and hairstyles. Cora, in particular, loathed them. His attention, in particular, was caught by her dark red velvet carpet slippers, embroidered with gold thread and beads in the Turkish fashion.

"Should I return to this conversation, my lord, when you have slept some? you look like you are having difficulty keeping up." And the chit had the audacity to look smug as she said it.

Peter helped himself to more coffee, heaping in the sugar until it was sweet and thick, "It is true, vidama," he paused.

"Lydia," she corrected, "if we are to be conspirators in this, we might as well address each other by name and not title, don't you think?" She was not asking for his opinion.

"Lydia," he said, testing the weight of the word in his mouth, amidst the coffee's oily aftertaste of ashes and syrup, "I am yet to be afforded the opportunity to sleep. It is the price one pays when all of one's hens lay at the same time, even a few you had not realised were in the basket at the time. How is your brother? I trust he is well." She gave a slight nod of the head to suggest that he was. "It was absolutely not my intention that your brother be caught up in my machinations, when I asked, Derek, Silverdale, to intervene it was because I needed a second pair of eyes that those involved would fix on allowing my servant, Theo, to work freely. It was simple coincidence that your brother and Silverdale encountered each other alerting your brother to the theft, which as you have surmised was planned."

"You are too much a fashionable pink to ever wear such a watch unless it was absolutely necessary or you wanted to draw attention to it," Lydia admitted, "so you clearly wanted the watch to be taken."

"I must commend you on how much you have noticed and wonder if perhaps the wrong sibling involved themselves in the mystery," this flattery was given with a slight leer that caused her to raise a sculpted eyebrow.

"Perhaps," she said, "had you wanted Stiles to solve it instead of draw attention allowing you and your agent to move unmolested. It is for this reason, I assume, that you made such effort to engineer the two of them to talk, privately in Russian, I must applaud that move for it was delicious," Peter agreed that he was particularly proud of it, "where Lahey could see which means you did not at any point consider Lahey to be the thief, if he was the distraction."

"His brother was an option but I had no thought it might be Colonel Lahey, the thefts started before he re entered society."

"I am thinking," she said putting her coffee cup on the table and lifting a slice of cold toast slathered with lemon curd and a napkin to protect the silk, she took a bite chewing deliberately so he had to wait on her, "that you knew all along who the thief was and you were searching just for the opportunity, but your distraction saw my brother hurt, even if it is just bruising and for that Colonel Lahey will have to be properly reprimanded."

"Colonel Lahey has left Eyam," Peter answered with a mock sadness, "unfortunately a rider came at dawn explaining that he was immediately needed to travel to Kashmiri, he is of course heartbroken to leave under such circumstances without bidding his hostess adieu, but both Lords Argent and McCall were here to see him, and his brother, into a carriage bound for London with the assistance of the Loughborough Militia. As my man, Theo, was also required to travel to London at great speed to deliver the news of what has transpired here I asked that he call on your father and inform him of what Colonel Lahey did and I can assure you he will not be welcomed in London society again. I feel I should also add that he left with a broken nose and a waddle like a pregnant duck thanks to your brother's protestations."

"And the thief?"

Peter sighed, "an idiot, taken by the Loughborough militia to Kent where he will spend the next few years cooling his heels in Europe, however Theo and his majesty's guardsmen will deal with the true malefactor." He sighed again, "the whole thing is out of a farce, my dear, it is not to be borne, I am almost embarrassed to be part of it."

"Pray, do tell, I am still undecided if I should ruin you?"

At that Peter's exhaustion was overwhelmed by his amusement, "and how would you do that, sweetheart?" That last endearment was clearly a threat.

"Do you know Desdemona Greenberg?" she asked him and took another bite of her toast before she answered which gave him time to reply that he did not. "Vidama Greenberg is almost terminally honest, she will not repeat gossip unless she knows for a fact that it is entirely true, this means that gossip spread by the vidama is treated like gospel, she would not repeat it unless it were true so if she repeats it then it must be true," he nodded to show he understood, "my brother also doesn't lie," she said, "more because he is so terrifically awful at it, what he will do when cornered is to deflect with an uncomfortable truth. So he will repeat something he believes to be true and the vidama knows that what he says is true, especially when cornered, so imagine if my brother confronted someone in Vidama Greenberg's hearing with one of those uncomfortable truths about you,"

"The news would be throughout London in the time it takes to make a pot of tea," he admitted and then clapped at her ingenuity, "and am I right in thinking that, of course, Vidama Greenberg will be told about Colonel Lahey?"  
  
"Of course," she conceded with a smile. "We omega have little but our gossip to entertain us, now, are you going to tell me who took the watch and why?"

"That depends, dear Lydia, on your opinion of Silverdale's desire to ask your brother permission to court him?"

"I must ask if he is a fortune hunter," she said and anything else she intended to say was cut off by him laughing.


	21. Chapter 21

Stiles awoke to an empty bed. Although Lydia was typically not an early riser and Stiles was, it seemed on this day that the roles were reversed for she had managed to wake, dress and leave the room without disturbing him. A small fire had been set in the grate and a bath was waiting in front of it, and after relieving himself he slipped into the hot water with a sigh of utter bliss. After the whole furore with Colonel Lahey in the stables, he had felt grimy but it had been too late the night before to bathe but Lydia had forecast his need, as she almost always did.

Outside the shutters the rain was still coming down in sheets although the wind had dropped, so, with that in mind Stiles made the decision that he would wear the grey wool pantaloons with the grey corduroy jacket and taffeta waistcoat. This caused some issue because Tonkins, his valet, could not easily find the wool pantaloons and then recalled that he had taken them down to the laundry, and being wool and thus slow to dry he had left them hung on the rack, and he'd be right back with them if he could continue with his dressing alone. Not seeing an alternative Stiles agreed. He was already complete with his foundations, a chemise, pantalettes with white silk stockings and a corded set of stays to slim his waistline. He had pulled on his red house slippers and then his banyan, which was woollen and almost worn through in places, tying it at his neck, before he sat the mirror to sort out his face and hair. He had gone to bed still wearing the night's pearl powder and shadow which now gave his face an unearthly countenance, not unlike a ghoul for although Lydia had applied the cold cream neither of them had removed it.

He did not wash his face in the bath because he did not care to use the same water his genitals were in on places people saw. He smeared cold cream on his skin and hands, then was stuck trying to lift his teacup with greasy hands, before wiping it off with a scrap of muslin. Normally he would have applied a second coat before going to bed, ensuring his skin was soft and supple, but it being morning he did not and would leave the residue to be absorbed by his skin. He leaned forward to check the goose egg on his forehead, "lawd," he muttered, "I look like a damn unicorn." He was trying to ease his hair down over his brow to cover the lump when there was a soft knock on the door. "Silly man" he said to himself, "he's gone and got himself locked out."

He knew he looked a state as he opened the door, which he should not have done being unchaperoned, but convinced it was only Tonkins he opened the door.

It was not his valet.

Silverdale well turned out in a pair of tan buckskins and a dark green superfine and his hair was neatly swept back from a fine forehead and this close Stiles could almost make out the colour of his eyes, even his beard was neatly trimmed and oiled, was waiting in the hallway.

These were flashing impressions, Stiles found, for as soon as he saw what Stiles was wearing he immediately turned around with an apology.

Whatever else he might have intended to say was curtailed for Dr Finstock appeared at the end of the hall, and marched Silverdale off with an arm around his shoulder muttering that the two of them were as subtle as a pair of elephants falling down the stairs.

This left Stiles baffled by the whole interaction and he went to lamenting the bruise on his forehead which, although he felt was justly earned, was really obvious and would need powdered and he had no idea where to start. He could put a bandage on it, perhaps a honey plaster, but then he would have a large square of honeyed linen pressed to his forehead which was possibly the only thing that might make the injury more obvious. He was glad that at least it wasn't a pimple.

\---

  
When Stiles went to go into the main parlour after descending Lydia, still dressed in her morning gown, cut him off and steered him into Lady McCall's recieving room by the arm, "we are having a conversation," she said sweetly, "and we have tea."

"Good morning to you too," he said a little tartly.

"None of that lip," she said with a half smile, "it'll be in contention with that bruise," she reached up to touch it as if she could feel the tenderness herself, "that might be a good thing," she mused, "for it rather makes you look like a unicorn."

"I know," Stiles said making a large gesture with his free hand, "it makes me worry that you will try to lay your head in my lap."

"And spoil my hair?" She asked, "please be serious," she looked delighted and impish, "we are about to learn secrets, I could hardly do that if I crush my curls."

"Secrets?" She had piqued his interest.

"Oh yes," she agreed, "Lord Peter Hale had decided to let us both in on his little plan, it's been too much of a piece and very much not ton but he has embroiled us in his little imbroglio so I reminded him that he should at least inform us of the outcome." She looked as pleased with herself as a cat that had gotten the canary. "I have told him that if I find the explanation to be worth while I might even dance with him at Almacks," she paused, "at least once."

Peter made an annoyed noise from his place by the fire where he was stood because it looked like if he sat he might fall asleep.

Sat holding a porcelain teacup in his hands, which looked strangely dainty in comparison, was Silverdale, he was wearing clothes that fitted him much better than the day before's finery and his hair was neatly styled. He looked every inch the gentleman of the ton albeit with the frame of a corinthian even if he did not dress like one. He seemed to have lost his cane somewhere for Stiles could not see it leaning against the table which meant that he racked his brain trying to remember if he had seen it when Silverdale had tried to call on him.

Stiles took the seat that Lydia left him, next to Silverdale on the couch, and accepted a cup of tea from the gentleman and smiled to himself when their hands touched, something Lydia noticed with a small smile.

"As we are all accounted for," Peter said, "I can begin because soonest started soonest over and I can finally go to bed. I have been up all night and I am far too vain to subject the public to my complexion when I have not had nearly enough rest." He looked at the three of them critically, "in fact I only remain awake at this ungodly hour," it was ten of the clock, "because someone," he flashed a look at Lydia who gave him such a sweet smile in return that those who did not know her might think that butter would not have melted in such a mouth, "insisted that everyone was made aware of the particulars before I retired. I can inform you, without reservation that the entire affair is now resolved and that I apologise for any impositions that I have made on any of you."

"Are you well?" Silverdale asked, "for you are speaking most out of character."

"Not at all," Stiles told him in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning up against Silverdale to do so, so that he was close enough to feel his warmth through their clothes, "Lydia has a way of arranging things to suit, if she wants a thing done, it happens, even if that means Hell opening up and Satan himself complaining of the cold."

Lydia, rather than be annoyed at the description, looked a little proud of herself over the lip of her tea cup.

"I have abused you all terribly," Peter continued, "for I already had suspicions," he paused, "no, I knew who the thief was but I needed proof and to get that proof I overestimated our enemy, so I intended to use you, Derek," he nodded to him, "as a distraction for you are not necessarily a good investigator. Knowing that I set up the investigation that you would blunder about allowing both Theo and myself to act more freely. It was not my intention that you, vidame, become involved, as I have been made to understand this was a grave error on my part and an underestimation of vesdames in particular."

Stiles glanced over at Lydia who continued to smile into her teacup.

"I shall try to summarise this for I am very tired and I would like nothing more than to go to bed to sleep at least until high tea. The thief has been removed from the premises and is accompanied by Theo to London."

"Colonel Lahey was the thief?" Silverdale asked.

"No, unfortunately," Peter answered, "but he was removed also, the thief, in this case - Scott McCall. He didn't even steal it for a good reason," Peter shook his head a little in dismay, "he stole the watch in order to win over Gerard Argent who had promised him that if he delivered information that could be sold he would be allowed to marry Vidama Argent."

"But Gerard Argent has no say in who Allison finally marries," Stiles protested. "Allison says her parents will have nothing to do with her grandfather."

"It's more ridiculous than that," Peter said, "Gerard convinced the lovestruck idiot that if he gained enough influence through what was basically blackmail then Scott would be allowed to marry Allison who would have more social standing, I can only hope that Gerard was at least selling the information to the French so the whole affair becomes less embarrassing for everyone involved. Because Scott was incompetent and even Gerard realised it he encouraged Lady Woodrow to invite herself to the party so she could make sure he wouldn't get caught, but enough liquor in her and she'll tell complete strangers, like Theo in this case, everything. She apparently is all hands. It was her idea to press the seal into soap to make an impression."

"When did someone make a soap impression?" Stiles asked. "I missed a bit there."

"Kate had the rather clever idea to make an impression of the seal so no one would know that the watch was missing," Peter explained. "Kate thought if her father had some money she could live in comfort without Lord Woodrow having access to her accounts, or even be in a position that if she divorced him she could make a better match, as if any in London would have her, which would allow her to return to her previous excesses."

"So Scott stole the watch?" Stiles wanted to make sure he had the details right, "to be allowed to marry Allison who was being offered by a man who had no say in who she married?" Stiles paused, "I thought it might sound better if I said it out loud, it didn't." He shook his head. "So he's just an idiot who got manipulated into this," Peter nodded, "and I imagine that Lady Woodrow and Gerard Argent are going to prison." Peter nodded again, "treason, or blackmail."

"Some of what was stolen involved state secrets, not important ones but still, even the necessity of boot leather for the peninsula is considered valuable in the right circles, so he will be tried in secret. If he is lucky he might live to be deported, Lady Woodrow will be dealt with privately, this whole thing was set up this way to prevent a scandal."

"And what is going to happen to Scott?"

"The continent," Peter said, "Lord McCall and I arranged that late last night. The poor Mssrs Lahey were, in this case, completely innocent victims, Scott's fear that Lord Argent would arrange a marriage for Allison before he could deliver his prize to Gerard, or that Gerard could act made him turn on Mr Lahey, that combined with your own interaction with Silverdale, Vidame, served to push Colonel Lahey into a temper out of which he could not resist acting and hurting you, I can assure you that I had no intention of you getting involved or hurt. However I must commend you on your headbutt, you delivered it masterfully, your father will be proud."

"I am still confused," Stiles said, "why did you need a distraction?"

"Because he wasn't sure if he was dealing with a mastermind and so overestimated the planning necessary and made things far more complicated than they needed to be," Silverdale drawled.

"In this," Peter admitted ruefully, "Silverdale is quite correct, I assumed the French were involved and knew that they would make no overt movements on Silverdale but he could draw their eye allowing Theo the freedom to act that he needed, but instead of a spy we got a lovelorn idiot and a pair of would-be blackmailers who couldn't steal a watch that was left out for them to steal without starting a fight, getting drunk and trying to molest the investigator, and Theo is absolutely going to demand a pay rise for that, and I have been up all night dealing with this nonsense and the Lahey debacle without causing a scandal and I am, quite frankly, knackered. So tell me, vidama, will that be all? will you finally release me to my bed?"

For a moment it looked like Lydia might prolong his torment just for her own amusement but she did acquiesce, but then thought better of it, "I must go upstairs and change," she said, eying Stiles and Silverdale with a twinkle in her eye, "I shall accompany you to the stairs."

This left Stiles alone with Silverdale. "About this morning," Silverdale said at the same time that Stiles tried to say "I wanted to thank you," so that the two of them were unintelligible and then both apologised and looked away from each other, embarrassed.

"I," Silverdale said, "I would like," he paused and exhaled slowly through his nose as if he was angered, which made Stiles curl in on himself. "I am not good at this," he admitted, then with another long exhalation through his nose he turned to Stiles. "Vidame Stilinski would you do me the honour of allowing me to call on you?"

Stiles blinked, then blinked a second time then tried to put his teacup on the tray beside him and missed, the teacup falling in a parabola to the floor as if in slow motion. Both men tried to get down to try and mop the spill but only succeeded in banging their foreheads together. As Stiles sat back on his heels Silverdale smiled at him and it was so genuine that Stiles felt himself flush, and let Silverdale pull his hands away from the broken porcelain.

They were interrupted by Finstock- who had the most impeccable timing for interrupting them. "You two shall be the death of me," the doctor ejaculated, "you cannot be left alone for five moments, I understand that journeys end in lovers meeting but you could at least attempt discretion, I have distracted others so that you can have privacy but I constantly find you moments away from trysts in the hallways. Vidame, I am worried I might have to take you to your father that he might arrange a discreet marriage, and you," he turned an accusing finger to Silverdale, "in your condition."

"I have just asked the vidame for permission to offer for him," Silverdale said from his place on the tea stained rug with one hand on the couch to hold him steady.

"Mary Magdalene's tits," Dr Finstock swore, "you are only now offering for the boy?" He was so startled by the information that he stumbled backwards into the wall with the invocation. "When you have spoiled him in every corner of this house, despite your infirmity."

Stiles protested "I beg your pardon," but the doctor just talked over him.

"Perhaps I should have given you laudanum if only to protect the vidame, I had thought that you knew better, in your position, but it appears you have the same proclivities as Lord Hale." At that Stiles tried to further his protestations, "how you have managed to hide your assignations I do not know."

"There are no assignations," Silverdale said getting to his feet with a groan and crack of joints. "My behaviour with the vesdames has been impeccable and I am in no way like my uncle."

"Your uncle?" Stiles asked, still crouched on the rug.

Silverdale turned to look at him, "yes, Peter is my uncle."

"But your name is Silverdale," Stiles protested, "and you are hard pressed." It had been a topic of conversation with his sister the night before. Stiles was sure of it.

"By the beard of Saint Joseph," Finstock swore rolling his bulging eyes, "you didn't even tell him who you are, that makes you worse than your uncle, at least he tells those whom he seduces who he is."

"I haven't seduced him," Silverdale protested at the same time as Stiles said "but your clothes were rough and you arrived in a wagon like you were a delivery."

"Because that horse of his threw him," Finstock said, "his clothes were ruined and he was blessed indeed not to crack open that lascivious mind of his, did you not notice the bruises?"

"I haven't seen him without his clothes," Stiles answered.

"Did you extinguish the lamp?" That at least made Finstock curious, "with the curtains drawn Napoleon could invade and we wouldn't know it until breakfast was served."

"He did not see me naked because I was not naked."

"Ah, over the clothes," Finstock nodded. "Quicker I suppose."

Silverdale looked like he might, if he had the range of motion, strike the doctor. "Stiles," he said, "Allow me to introduce myself properly, I am Roderick Hale, Viscount Silverdale and Lord of Mountby Grange, nephew of Lord Peter Hale and son to Marchioness Talia Hale of Rotherham. I arrived yesterday by cart because my carriage was held up so I rented a horse, that bastard in the stable, who threw me, with no luggage or valet I was forced to rely on the kindness of Lady McCall whilst I was incapacitated, and as the doctor stated, I am currently one giant bruise."

"So you are not crippled?" Stiles asked, it hadn't been a deal breaker but he wanted to be sure, Silverdale shook his head, "or hard pressed?" Again Silverdale shook his head. "Now everyone will think I threw Lahey over for you because you are rich and not because you are the only other person I know who even knows who Lomonosov is, let alone can read him in the original Russian."

"I need a drink," Finstock said, "perhaps then this whole thing will make sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Stiles said standing up with more grace than Silverdale thought him capable of, "I have agreed to let the viscount approach my father to ask for permission to court me based on our mutual passion for Russian poetry." He took Silverdale by the hands, and without gloves it was quite scandalous. "And the scandal of that will of course overwhelm everything else, because clearly I am overstepping, but yes, Derek, I would very much like you to offer for me." He had a smile on his lips, "of course as a courting gift I must have that horse that brought us together and rescued me from Colonel Lahey,"

"Consider it done," Derek bowed and rather salaciously kissed Stiles' knuckle who blushed bright red under the attention.

"And you shall have to dance with me in Almacks, so everyone can see," Stiles continued thinking of one young alpha who was determined that Stiles would never wed and had said so often, "because you are handsome and speak Russian." Silverdale laughed and agreed.

"It shall be a waltz so everyone will talk about it," Silverdale said, still holding Stiles' hands.

"Now, sir, you go too far," Stiles said with a peal of laughter. "We shall be the very talk of London,"

Silverdale's answering grin was predatory, "my uncle shall soon do something to distract the gossips, now go, you must tell your sister," he kissed his knuckles again, "she will not be pleased if you do not tell her."

Looking at Finstock Stiles darted forward and kissed Silverdale on the lips like a hummingbird before turning away leaving Silverdale grinning behind him.


End file.
